


Against All Odds

by dweetwise



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Aggressive Denial of Feelings, Alternate Universe, Attempt at Humor, Bad Flirting, Bottom Ace, Boys Kissing, Cabin Fic, Con Artist Ace, Domestic Fluff, Drinking, Falling In Love, First Dates, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Mr. Park's A+ parenting, Old Man Jake, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rimming, Sex Before Feelings, Sexual Content, Smut, Suggestive Themes, Swearing, past Jake/Dwight
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:07:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 30,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25386535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dweetwise/pseuds/dweetwise
Summary: A run-in with the Park corporation heir has Ace trying to flirt his way into a life of luxury.A charming gambler attempting to scam him piques a bored Jake's interest.Non-Entity AU where Jake is middle-aged and stayed in the family business.(ON HIATUS)
Relationships: Jake Park/Ace Visconti
Comments: 29
Kudos: 63





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this was born out of a tumblr prompt for old man jake X ace that i fell in love with and wanted to write a proper fic for.

Ace looks down at his cards and focuses on not letting his cocky smirk waver at the abysmal hand. His opponent is clearly struggling, beads of sweat rolling down his fat face while his untrimmed brows scrunch up in thought. His poker face is beyond awful, and Ace almost believes his bluff is going to work.

“Call,” the man finally says, moving a substantial amount of chips into the pot while glancing across the table at Ace with nervous, beady eyes. Ace barely resists the urge to gag at having been bested by such an amateur.

“You got more balls than I thought,” Ace says with a good-natured smile instead, placing his cards down and folding his hand. The greaseball’s face lights up and he reveals his two kings just to spite Ace, while the dealer moves the pot in front of the undeserving victor.

“Luck run out, sir?” the dealer asks Ace, an infuriatingly calm smirk on his familiar face, the name badge ‘Adam’ flickering when it catches the obnoxiously bright casino lighting.

“Eh, can’t win ‘em all,” Ace shrugs, pocketing the meager handful of chips he has left and flicking a $5 chip the dealer’s way, receiving a curt nod for his troubles. Ace makes his way to the bar and tries not to think about how much lighter his pockets feel compared to when he arrived to the casino earlier that day.

When the bartender, a buxom blonde with a southern drawl, greets him and starts pouring him a glass of red before he can even sit down, Ace realizes he’s spent way too much time in one place. Having a favorite dealer is fine, but half of the casino staff recognizing him as a regular is his cue to leave.

Ace sips on his wine, exchanging pleasantries with the bartender to calm down after tilting pretty hard during the humiliation at the poker table. His banter with the woman is playful, his voice taking on a more suggestive tone than usual because hey, since he’s dipping tomorrow might as well push his luck. The woman just laughs and shakes her head in amusement, effectively shooting down Ace’s ideas of one last hurrah. Well, looks like his last night is going to be spent in the quiet boredom of playing dry businessmen until he loses the remainder of his chips.

A commotion in the lobby has Ace turning around curiously, expecting to see a drunk kid or angry player get thrown out. Instead, he sees a whole damn entourage.

There’s at least five security guards, shoving their way through the people milling about the entryway. Between them, an old Asian man in a wheelchair and an impeccable suit is being pushed forward by one of the guards, while a younger man trails after them. As the convoy makes its way past the bar towards the office area, Ace turns back to his drink, mulling over the new information.

He’s been in this town long enough to know who’s who. He just saw the Park corporation patriarch, one of the most influential people in the entire state. The family is new money, and not all of it has been acquired through legitimate means. Now that he thinks about it, Ace is pretty sure he owns a couple k’s to a Korean mobster that is definitely associated with the Parks. That’s pocket change to the family though, and Mr. Park looks to be here on business that is approximately 6000 times more important than Ace’s broke ass.

As the casino security encourages people to get back to their games and give their ‘VIP’ space, Ace orders another drink and gives some idle thought about how he’d slip out unnoticed if a gang fight was to break out in the casino.

“Hey darlin’, what can I get ya?” the barkeep’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts, and he sees a man sit down a few bar stools from his own.

“B—uh... barley whiskey,” the man stammers in way that stands out like a sore thumb from his ten thousand dollar suit. Ah—it’s the man Ace saw earlier, overshadowed by Mr. Park’s commanding presence but still clearly part of the dynasty. Even the bartender seems to realize this as she doesn’t comment on his stutter, instead giving a bright smile before reaching for the top shelf stuff.

Ace tries to sneak glances without outright staring. The man has greying hair and a sharp mustache, and his face seems to have frozen into a perpetual scowl. A lightbulb goes off in Ace’s head; that’s Jacob Park, Mr. Park’s youngest son and heir to the family business. As he takes in the way the man’s lip twitches in disgust as he drinks some of the expensive whiskey and how his entire body seems rigid and almost pent up, Ace has an absolutely terrible idea, getting up to buy some more casino chips with his stolen credit card.

It’s not the first time Ace has tried to flirt his way into the good graces of a rich person, and it probably won’t be the last. He even has an established battle plan for situations like these.

**Step one: Pretend you don’t know who they are.**

“Not gonna play any of the games, newcomer?” Ace says when he approaches Jacob after a respectable amount of time has passed and the man is on his second glass of whiskey. He’s promptly ignored. “You _did_ read the sign that said ‘casino’, right?”

The man slowly turns around to face him, while the bartender’s eyes have gone wide and she’s silently gesturing a panicked cutting motion with her hand to her throat. Ace’s smirk widens at her efforts, the thrill of danger making his veins light up with adrenaline. He’s getting his last hurrah, one way or another.

“What?” Jacob finally says, staring at Ace like he’s a fleck on his expensive suit.

“I’m just saying,” Ace starts, leaning against the bar cockily. “You’re not going to indulge in the soul-crushing agony of a losing a week’s salary, like the rest of us? Man, you’re missing out.”

The younger Park stares. The bartender has pointedly moved to rearrange some glasses on the far side of the bar, glancing over as if expecting a fight to break out.

“I don’t do gambling,” Jacob finally says. But he’s not turning away. _Score_.

**Step two: Pretend you don't know they're rich.**

“Ah, a sensible one!” Ace exclaims in mock cheer. “Then how about you join me in my losing endeavors? My hard-earned savings only, no penny off your back!”

“Why would I do that?” the younger Park squints.

“It’s like those videos of train wrecks; amusing in a horrible way!”

Again, Jacob just stares. Then he seems to huff out something that could very generously be described as a laugh.

“What the hell,” Jacob says, downing the rest of his whiskey and standing up from the bar.

**Step three: Make them feel important.**

“I’ve been dying to play roulette, but I can’t decide what to bet on. What do you think? Red, black, range of numbers?” Ace asks when he makes his way deeper into the casino with the Park.

“Thirteen,” Jacob answers, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were _trying_ to make me lose!” Ace exclaims with mock shock.

“I thought that was the whole point,” the other man muses.

“With this much bad luck, it’s going to turn positive again. Just you watch,” Ace smirks.

It does not turn positive, and Jacob does that weird half-huff again when the dealer takes his lone chip from the betting table and the roulette ball sits annoyingly at red 9.

“You think you’ll do better?” Ace challenges with a grin.

“You were on the complete opposite side of the wheel. Would be impossible not to,” the man rationalizes.

**Step four: Treat them so they don’t think you’re a gold digger.**

“Oh yeah? Megan, another round for my cocky friend over here, if you would,” he calls out to the dealer, a ginger woman who is already raising an amused eyebrow at his antics when he flicks two chips onto the table. “There, I doubled your odds!” he grins at Jacob.

When, predictably, his companion doesn’t win the game with the meager 5% odds, they give up on roulette.

“What do you want to try? Poker? Blackjack? Slots?” Ace muses, flicking a chip in his hand absently. God, he’ll never get tired of gambling.

“I told you, I don’t play. You can pick whatever you want to lose in next.”

“Blackjack it is!” Ace exclaims. “It’s my favorite game, you know why?”

“Because you can lose money the fastest?”

“Very funny,” Ace snarks. “Because I always get Aces. Because my name is Ace. It’s destiny.”

“Huh. Shame there’s not a Jake card,” Jacob says. _Jake_ , Ace corrects in his mind.

“I mean, the Jack is pretty close. But if you ask me, Jake sounds more like a ten,” Ace drawls, looking Jake up and down appreciatively. Okay, that wasn’t subtle at all, but he might as well make his intentions known sooner rather than later.

Jake isn’t stupid, and definitely picks up on Ace ogling him. “Don’t a ten and an Ace make a blackjack?”

Oh. That wasn’t what he was going for, but sure enough, Jake is right.

“Like I said; destiny,” Ace grins and gets an eye roll for his efforts.

They sit down at an empty blackjack table, with a dealer Ace vaguely recognizes as being friendly. He squints at the badge; ‘Philip’. Yeah, that kind of rings a bell.

“Do you mind if my friend here watches? He’s never played before,” Ace offers a charming smile to the dealer, checking if it’s okay for them to occupy two seats.

“Not at all,” the dealer says, offering a polite nod to Jake.

**Step five: Make them think you trust them.**

“I’m gonna go grab us some drinks, why don’t you take over?” Ace suggests after ten or so rounds, getting up from his seat.

“What? I don’t know shit!” Jake exclaims, taken off guard. For a rich guy, he sure isn’t very eloquent.

“I mean, the goal was to lose all the money anyway. Go nuts!” Ace quips cheerfully.

When he comes back to the table with two beers, Jake hasn’t managed to lose all his chips yet, so... success? Ace plops back into the seat next to Jake and hands him the beer. Jake blinks a couple times, surprised by the offered beverage.

“Yeah, uh, your preferred poison is a little out of my budget, so... hope you don’t mind,” Ace explains.

Ace curiously watches as the other pulls out a strip of paper from his front pocket, dipping it into the drink. It changes to a pink color, and Ace belatedly realizes it’s a roofie test. Huh, Jake really is prepared for everything.

“Hope you don’t mind,” Jake echoes his earlier sentiment when he notices Ace’s stare. He pockets the damp strip, apparently satisfied with the result. Ace finds himself hoping it doesn’t ruin the expensive suit.

“Nah, I’ve just... I never knew those existed, that’s so handy. And, uh, sorry for forcing a drink on you, I didn’t even think about how that must’ve looked.”

“It’d take a special kind of low life to drug someone at a casino,” Jake points out. Ace doesn’t know whether it’s meant as a compliment or an insult, so he shrugs and turns back to the game.

He doesn’t do terribly, considering most of his focus is on Jake. Blackjack is second nature to him at this point, and he doesn’t need to worry about mind games since no other players join. He really doesn’t pay nearly enough attention to the cards as he should, immediately losing track of how many face cards have been used, but he wins just enough to keep playing.

Jake seems to enjoy watching him play, sometimes even asking questions about the game. Though Ace’s favorite is when he smirks every time Ace loses, especially if he overshoots by taking dumb risks. Ace kind of wants to lose just because it amuses Jake.

He has a lot of trouble trying to estimate Jake's age. If it wasn't for the greying streaks in his hair, he would have put him in his early thirties. The mustache adds a lot of unnecessary years and is very pointedly out of style, definitely not something a younger man would choose. Still, Jake's features are boyish and his face is smooth, at least compared to the hundreds of laugh lines dotting Ace's face. Maybe Jake just doesn't laugh.

Ace is in the middle of telling the story of how he got kicked out of a Vegas casino to a skeptical Jake, when the other looks to the opposite side of the casino and tenses. Out of the corner of his eye, Ace sees the door to the VIP area open and a couple of body guards walk out.

“I have to go,” Jake says, all hints of his previous smile gone as he quickly moves to get up. Ace is glad he prepared for this eventuality, getting up with Jake and extending a hand.

**Step six: ... Um. Profit? Ace has never actually gotten to step six before.**

“Well, it was good meeting you,” Ace says with a charming smile. Jake eyes him suspiciously, before hesitating and reaching to reciprocate the handshake with a firm grip. Ace idly registers how surprisingly rough Jake's palms are, before he slips the chip into Jake's palm just as Mr. Park is wheeled out of the door and starts scanning the area for his son.

Ace slinks back to his seat at the table while Jake just stands there for a while, confused about the offered item, but then Mr. Park is hollering something and Jake’s hurried footsteps are gone.

* * *

When Jake is sitting in the backseat of the car and the two bodyguards joining them have thankfully decided to ride with his father in front, he takes out the poker chip in his pocket to examine it. He places it on the screen of his phone and pretends to check his messages so his dad's cronies won't notice.

Jake makes out a phone number scrawled in sharpie on one side, and a message on the other:

" _Call me -♠️_ "


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A weekend getaway with Jake isn't what Ace was expecting, but he can make it work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> suit jake is cool and all but damn it i wanted forest hobo jake

Ace doesn't expect to hear from Jake. It's been over a week and he's already two towns over and one pickpocketed iPhone richer. He took a gamble by giving the man his number, and this time it didn't pay off; he knew the odds from the get go, and isn't even mad. Ace is currently in the middle of packing up his meager belongings, intending to skip out on the bill of the overpriced hotel during the night, when he jumps from the sound of a ringing phone.

It can't be the stolen one, he disconnected the battery right away. He checks his burner phone… nope. What the fuck, it's gotta be his real phone. He's surprised the thing even has battery as he fishes it out from one of the jackets in his suitcase considering how rarely he uses it. Whoever hasn't hung up on him yet has to have the patience of a saint. Ace frowns at the unidentified number, his caller protection merely offering a 'pre-paid' identification.

“Hello?” Ace answers hesitantly. He realizes he probably should have ignored the call, but impulse control has never been one of his strong suits.

“ _Already drunk enough to forget how to answer a phone?_ ” Jake's voice snarks. A grin spreads over Ace's face.

Sadly, Jake seems to be in a hurry, but he invites Ace on a fishing trip over the weekend. Ace isn't really an expert on business world euphemisms, but he's pretty sure 'fishing trip' means 'wild weekend of sex and debauchery'. And if Jake wants to take him up to the mountains and fuck him silly, Ace is more than on board. And hey, it's the perfect chance to lay low for a couple of days in case the cops somehow manage to catch his trail!

* * *

During the week, Ace takes some time to scour the web for more information about the mysterious youngest Park. He finally gets an age to put to the face, as it turns out Jake is only two years younger than him. He also finds out that Jake doesn't, in fact, laugh. Or at least there's not even the hint of a smile in any of the pictures Ace finds.

Ace can't help his curiosity, typing 'jake park wife girlfriend' into the search engine. The results, very pointedly, turn up nothing substantial. Ace frowns and tries out Jake's brother, whose name he stumbled across when snooping. The site loads countless links to articles and pictures of Jeremy Park ("Jacob and Jeremy, how… biblical", Ace muses) with his wife and children . Ace smirks; seems his gaydar is yet to be proven wrong. And even better, he doesn't have to worry about an angry mob wife Mrs. Jake Park sending a hitman his way for being a home wrecker.

* * *

On Friday, Ace takes the bus to the mountain town, forgoing a ticket in favor of using the last of his cash to stock up on lube and condoms and buying a six pack of semi-decent beer. He has to take four different local buses to avoid ticket checks, but it’s not too bad. Ace belatedly realizes he doesn't own a single piece of outdoorsy clothing and can't really afford to splurge on any either, but if his hunch is correct, they're not going to be leaving the cabin much anyway.

When Jake pulls up to the run-down bus station in a pick-up truck and hops out dressed in a puffy vest covering an honest to god _flannel_ shirt, Ace starts to regret his life decisions. Jake has even forgone the stache in favor of growing out some shaggy stubble. He kind of looks like a hobo, and the stark contract between no-nonsense businessman and whatever bigfoot-yeti-look he’s going for now is enough to make Ace choke back a laugh.

He feels a little bad for laughing, but then Jake eyes him up and down and snorts at his outfit of choice. So maybe a dress shirt and shorts and slippers aren’t the most appropriate attire for the mountains, but if Ace _isn’t_ showing off his tanned legs and a tasteful amount of chest, how will Jake know he’s down to fuck?

“Glad you could make it,” Jake finally greets using actual words.

“Thanks for the invite!” Ace chippers, remembering his manners and happy to pretend they didn’t just give each other shit for their respective outfits. “Here, I got you this,” he says, handing Jake the beers. The man blinks in surprise. “The only thing I know about fishing trips is that there’s beer,” Ace jokes. ‘And lots and lots of sex’. Goddamnit, would his brain stop thinking about getting railed for like 5 seconds?

“Oh, uh. Thanks,” Jake says, clearly caught off guard. Is he offended? Does he hate beer, despite drinking it at the casino when offered? Did Ace pick a bad brand? Or is he just so filthy rich that the swill isn’t even good enough to use as dishwater? Jake doesn't comment further, only motioning for Ace to get in the car.

* * *

The ride up to the mountains is awkward, to say the least. The dirt road is bumpy as fuck and Ace wonders why anyone would ever want to go this far from civilization. They haven't passed a single house, car or any sign of life for at least ten minutes and Ace is starting to feel a little uneasy. Only now is he realizing Jake could have set him up to be brutally murdered by the mob in a remote location where nobody would ever find his body. It has to be an indication of some kind of insanity that Ace isn't that bothered by the possibility; flirting with danger has always been one of his favorite pastimes and is exactly what caused him to approach Jake in the first place.

“Not your usual scene, huh?” Jake is actually starting a conversation, effectively distracting Ace from trying to spot something other than trees in the scenery.

“You got me," Ace says, a small smirk on his face. "I honestly can't remember when I was last surrounded by something other than concrete."

“Who knows, maybe you’ll enjoy it,” Jake muses. Ace is a little taken aback at how calm Jake is. At the casino, he was rigid, constantly looking over his shoulder and barely talking unless it was to insult Ace. But Ace had seen the cracks in the tough facade, and him even being here must be an indication that he did something right.

"I didn't think I'd hear from you again,” Ace says after losing himself in his thoughts for a while. His voice is a little too sincere for his liking, lacking his usual humor. He clears his throat to snap himself out of it, playful smile back in place.

“I didn't think you'd agree to come,” Jake hums. “I just… felt like I could use the company, for once.”

“Surely, you have better alternatives? I mean, I know I'm hilarious but let's be honest, I'm not exactly outdoorsy,” Ace jokes.

“Nope, my first and only choice was a conman. My life really is that sad,” Jake says like it’s the most natural thing in the world while Ace does a double take and tries not to panic. “Oh come on, you really thought I didn't notice what you were trying to do at the casino?” Jake turns to him, raising an eyebrow.

“What—pfft—" Ace sputters and tries to think of a way to deflect, having been caught completely off guard. Damn, Jake is much more perceptive than he thought! He reaches for the door handle in case he needs to make a quick escape.

“Relax. I don't care, I knew you were bad business from the start,” Jake huffs, turning his attention back to the road. “I was just bored out of my mind and figured I’d play along until you’d inevitably try to swindle me. Which, either you’re better than I thought, or it never happened. It ended up being the most fun night I've had in... years, probably. So that's why I invited you; because I knew it'd be fun,” he explains.

Ace has trouble believing his ears. Jake recognized him as a scammer, and not only went along with his dumb little games at the casino, but contacted him after and invited him on a weekend trip? What a maniac.

“And this is the only place where I don't have an ‘image’ to worry about and can act like an actual human being,” Jake finishes in an annoyed huff while Ace is still trying to piece himself together.

“Like drink beer instead of forcing down whiskey?” Ace decides to voice his theory that he formulated over a week ago. Jake glances at him with a smirk.

“I knew you were more than just a pretty face.”

“Happy to be of service!" Ace grins, drinking in the not-so-subtle flirt. Not even 30 minutes in and the trip has already taken a complete 180 from what he'd imagined, but maybe it's not that bad. So Jake saw through his cover, just like he did Jake's. No big deal, he can roll with it!

“So, do you have anything to tell me?” Jake asks, and Ace is torn about how to answer.

Every instinct in him is screaming to deny, deny, deny and joke it off. Or alternatively, jump out of the moving car. But Jake is just so… open, and relaxed, and looking at him with… trust? Hope? He really wants to know what happens if he copies the other’s sincerity. Maybe if he clears the air now, he'll still have a shot?

“I knew who you were from the start,” Ace hears himself confess, his mouth apparently having made the decision for him. “I've mooched up to rich people before, with varying levels of success. Mostly I was just looking for a thrill and a little drunk, which is always a recipe for disaster.”

Instead of throwing him out of the car or glaring at him in disgust, Jake just gives a one-shoulder shrug, not even looking away from the road.

“Okay.”

Ace stares, eyebrows scrunching together.

“Okay?” he repeats.

“I figured as much. Thanks for telling me,” Jake says in a carefree tone, like he did not just hear Ace basically confess he just wanted his fame and money and dick. In no particular order.

The remaining ten minutes or so of the ride are spent with Jake telling him about a storm that swept through a month ago while Ace pretends to listen and tries to figure out whether Jake is crazy or stupid or is going to murder him after all.

But then they arrive at their destination, the trees opening up to reveal grassy fields and a log cabin next to a lake, and Jake stops the car and leads him inside. He even carries Ace’s bag and the gesture does not go unnoticed.

The cabin is much more modest than Ace expected from a family of the Parks’ caliber. He learns it's a pre-inheritance from his father (Ace doesn't know what that means, but it screams 'tax evasion') and it's completely owned by Jake. The downstairs has an open living plan, with the kitchen and living room by the entrance and a large fireplace by the stairs. Jake points out the bathroom and Ace idly wonders if he’ll have to shower with a bucket of cold water while following Jake upstairs to put his things in the guest room.

Jake goes on in detail about how he's worked to make the cabin off-the-grid functional, powered by something called a biomass plant and with its own filtration system for the lake water. Ace has never been into the eco lifestyle scene but he's elated to hear that there's running water and electricity.

After Jake finishes giving him the tour of the cabin, Ace wonders if it's appropriate to ask if they can fuck yet.

* * *

Instead, half an hour later he finds himself sitting in a small boat in the middle of the lake with a fishing rod in his hands and a pair of fugly oversized rubber boots on his feet.

“You know, when you said fishing trip, I didn't think you meant it literally,” Ace comments, smacking a mosquito against his face.

“Patience goes a long way," Jake says cryptically and Ace can't figure out if he means the fishing or Ace's need for instant gratification. "Either way, you still have a rod in your hands,” Jake smirks. A grin spreads over Ace’s face at the innuendo.

“I also didn't expect you to turn into a completely different person in the wild. Are you a werebear or something? Bear, not wolf, because of the beard and… flannel,” Ace can't resist his nose scrunching up in disgust.

“You're wearing a leopard print shirt with rubber boots. I don't think you have any room to talk.”

“It's nature themed,” Ace protests the offense against his shirt and Jake chuckles.

“I get what you’re saying, though,” Jake says after a while, looking up at the clouds in thought. “This is the one place I don't have dad or his henchmen looking over my shoulder every few seconds, and I don’t have to be a Park. I can just be Jake,” he finishes with a sigh. Ace knows this is a whole can of worms he’s not sure he should pry open.

Alas, to this day doubt has never won over his curiosity, and this is no exception.

“You don't seem too fond of the business world,” Ace says, trying to encourage Jake to talk more. When they first met, Ace just assumed Jake was quiet. Maybe all he needed was a little push.

“I hate it. Always have, and probably always will,” Jake says bluntly.

“…Oh. That’s gotta suck,” Ace offers, not entirely sure how to react. He never understood why rich people seemed so unhappy, when he—others, Ace corrects himself—are struggling to afford seven meals a week.

“It's just a race of who fucks over the most people. When I was younger, I thought I'd grow into it, that it was just an adult thing I'd learn to tolerate, like doing laundry or something,” Jake rants.

“To be fair, laundry sucks no matter how old you are,” Ace quips.

“So does working with suits with sticks up their asses all day,” Jake shoots back with small smile. “It just… never fails to amaze me how much money motivates people,” Jake sighs, glancing not-so-subtly at Ace. He doesn't even sound mad or disappointed, just… tired. Okay, so maybe the worst part about having money is everyone trying to get a piece of it. Ace can understand that.

“In my defense, that night was about 20% dollar signs in my eyes and 50% dumb curiosity,” Ace points out with a good-natured smile, not taking any offense. Jake’s comment can barely be classified as an insult compared to some of the things Ace has heard.

“And the remaining 30%?” Jake asks curiously.

“Uh. Not safe for the innocent ears of the fishies,” Ace jokes, offering a small grin. 'Dick', his one-track mind helpfully adds and he'd roll his eyes if Jake wasn't staring.

Ace barely has time to glance back at the fishing rod before a gloved hand is grabbing his chin and pulling him into a soft kiss. It's a fleeting press of lips that Ace doesn't even have time to react to before Jake starts pulling away. Ace whines in protest and chases the other's lips, leaning over and rocking the boat a little. He nearly drops the fishing rod in his excitement as Jake's chapped lips move languidly against his own, happy to finally get a confirmation that he wasn't just imagining the connection between them.

And then Ace notices a tugging on the rod, and realizes a fish is actually biting.

“ _NOW_?” Ace asks, pulling away and reluctantly turning his attention back to the task. “We've been out here for an hour without even so much as a nibble, and you choose to bite _now_?”

Jake isn’t as bothered by the interruption, merely chuckling and grabbing the rod from his hands to reel in the fish while Ace is focused on yelling obscenities at it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ace gets to know Jake and finally gets laid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please mind the changed rating!

The stupid cock-blocking fish that Jake reels in turns out to be a catfish, and an ugly one at that.

“He's a big one! Look at that mug,” Jake has the audacity to smile at the monstrosity. How Jake can hold the slimy thing that close to his face is way beyond Ace's understanding.

“It kind of looks like your dad,” Ace blurts. Jake stares at him in surprise and Ace fears for his life for approximately 2 seconds before Jake bursts out laughing. It's kind of an ugly laugh, like Jake’s whole body is unused to the action as he snorts and guaffs deep from his gut, but it still manages to make Ace's heart flutter stupidly. 'It's just from the kiss', he tells himself as he idly wonders if anyone's ever made Jake laugh like that before.

When they get back to the cabin, Ace hopes that surely _now_ , with the ice broken and everything, he'll get a dicking.

Nope; Jake decides to make dinner instead. No matter how many eating meat innuendos Ace tries to make, Jake is still adamant in preparing the steak.

“Is that fucking _kobe_?” Ace vaguely recognizes the marbled pattern on the meat.

“Wagyu," Jake corrects, mouth quirking up. "You got me, I'm a meat snob."

Ace tones down the flirting because now he really wants to try the expensive steak and having sex would delay that.

* * *

It turns out Jake is an amazing chef, at least by Ace’s standards. Obscenely expensive ingredients aside, Ace can't remember when he last had a home cooked meal; he hasn't even had warm food the entire week, only having eaten a yogurt earlier today. For someone so against mooching off of his wealth, Jake sure spoils him with the meal.

“It's a crime you're not in the culinary world, this is amazing,” Ace compliments.

“Thanks,” Jake smiles. “I only started learning a few years ago. We always had chefs prepare meals for us, but I wanted to do it myself, especially for when I'm up here. I, uh, was gonna start hunting too, but couldn't bring myself to do it.”

“You… like animals?” Ace asks, confused. Jake bows his head and mumbles something at his plate in embarrassment. ‘ _Cute_ ’, is the first thought in Ace’s head and it makes him grin like a doofus.

After the meal, it’s already getting dark. Ace is feeling a little bloated from having stuffed his face with the delicious food, so when Jake hands him a beer and suggests stargazing on the porch, he’s more than happy to oblige. Anything to delay the fucking so he doesn’t feel like he’s in the third trimester of a pregnancy. He frowns. If there’s even going to be any fucking; Jake isn’t making a move, but maybe he’s just in a food coma too.

“I have to admit, you’re really selling the outdoorsy life well,” Ace says, glancing at the bright stars reflecting in the lake. It’s so quiet up here, no sound of traffic whatsoever.

“I’m glad you’re having a good time,” Jake says, taking a swig of his beer. “Though it was fun watching you struggle with the fishing,” he smirks like a brat.

“You little _shit_ ,” Ace huffs, nudging Jake with his bottle. “I knew you were plotting something.”

Jake smirks and turns his attention back to watching the night sky.

“Did you always enjoy the outdoors, or…?” Ace asks, finding himself wanting to get to know more about the enigmatic man.

“Not really,” Jake says, thumbing the beer bottle in thought. “We didn’t get to do much as kids, worried nannies always on our asses. I only learned how to pitch a tent in my thirties.”

“Wow, I didn't take you for such a late bloomer,” Ace can't help himself quipping. Jake rolls his eyes and gives him a raised eyebrow as if to say ‘really?’. “Sorry, you were saying?” Ace offers with an apologetic grin.

“When dad gave me this, I didn’t care at first. Then, the more I came up here, the more I started realizing how much I enjoyed it; the nature, the quiet, the solitude, everything. I did a lot of work and renovations and now it’s… you know. Home,” Jake finishes.

Ace doesn’t know, he hasn’t experienced home since he left Argentina over three decades ago, but he still nods.

“Can I ask why you dislike your old man so much?” Ace asks carefully. Why does he keep prying? Must be the beer.

“You mean apart from the fact that he always sends his cronies to watch me, supervising that I don’t stray from the mold he's forced on me?” Jake asks. “He’s a shitty human being that I want nothing do with. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors.”

“Well… a few,” Ace admits. Mr. Park has a certain reputation in certain kinds of circles, apparently having a hand in nearly everything shady or illegal going on in a 100-mile radius from the Park corporation headquarters.

“All true, probably. If he hasn’t done something yet, he sure as hell will. We’ve butted heads since before I can remember, and I hate him and he knows it. But with my brother out of the picture, we don’t really have any choice but to put up with each other,” Jake rants.

Ace feels like he’s stepped in a big fat pile of daddy issues, but he tactfully says nothing. He gets the feeling Jake doesn’t get to talk about this stuff, like, ever. Jake seems to deflate after his little outburst, sighing dejectedly.

“All I ever wanted was my freedom,” Jake says softly and god, Ace can relate to that. His life isn't much but at least he can choose to do whatever and whoever he wants. He realizes that as much as a life of luxury sounds tempting, he probably wouldn't give up his life for Jake's; gilded cages and all that.

“Why not just leave?” Ace asks, even though he knows it’s never that simple. It sure as hell wasn’t for him, the first time he had to. But it gets easier with time. Or maybe that’s just because he doesn’t get attached anymore.

“I… almost did, once,” Jake says, surprising Ace. “Got caught doing weed in college and nearly got kicked out. Dad threatened to disown me, so I had two options. I chose to stay even though I knew I'd be miserable. Also… this is gonna sound horrible,” Jake cringes, and Ace perks up curiously. ”But he had pneumonia at the time and I thought he was gonna croak.”

Ace can’t help the surprised laugh escaping his mouth. The whole situation is absurd, but he’s always had a morbid sense of humor and he doesn’t even feel bad. Jake smiles a little at his reaction.

“But wouldn’t you know it, the bastard's survived three cancers by now and more illnesses than I can remember, so he's not going anywhere anytime soon," Jake finishes with a big swig of his beer. Ah, drowning his sorrows in alcohol; another thing Ace can relate to wholeheartedly as he gulps down some of his own beer.

“What would you do?” Ace asks after a small silence. Jake turns to him and tilts his head. “Say you didn’t have to deal with your dad and or ever put on a suit again. What would you do?”

Jake ponders the question for a while, looking up at the night sky. Ace expects some mushy, far-fetched dream about traveling the world and soul-searching in the Himalayas or something. “Drink cheap beer and fuck a hot guy in the ass under the stars,” Jake says instead, head flopping back against the cabin wall with a dull 'thunk' while he smirks and no doubt imagines the scenario.

Ace huffs out a laugh through his nose at the confession. Jake keeps surprising him, so laid-back and blunt whenever his family is taken out of the picture. Ace doesn't know if the confession was meant as a pick-up-line or not, but he sees an opening and goes for it.

“I asked what your dream was, not what you think’s going to happen in the next ten minutes,” Ace purrs suggestively, and maybe it’s a little over the top, but playing hard to get isn’t really his M.O.

And apparently, that’s all the encouragement Jake needs, eyes darkening and placing his half-finished beer to the side while he leans in for another taste of Ace’s lips.

Ace finds himself pressed against the porch by a strong body and insistent lips, and he moans in encouragement and runs his hands over the surprisingly defined muscles he can feel though the fabric of the flannel. Jake’s lips and warm body feel amazing, but the cold wood of the porch and mosquitoes buzzing by his ear are a little bit of a mood killer. Ace pulls away, already slightly out of breath.

“I know you said under the stars—” Ace starts.

“Bed works too,” Jake decides with a smirk, pulling Ace up on his feet and leading him to his bedroom, some of their clothes ending up discarded along the way.

Ace learns that even though Jake is clearly pent up, he's far from rushed. Jake fucks like a man lost in a desert drinks water from an oasis, with a combination of reverence and desperation that makes Ace's toes curl. His thrusts are deep and steady as he fucks Ace against the headboard, holding him firmly in place and grunting softly against his neck. Jake has a shitload of stamina, and as Ace moans and tells him “Fuck, don't stop,” Jake diligently keeps up the steady pace until Ace's eyes roll into the back of his head and he paints Jake’s hand and the headboard with his cum. Jake's hips stutter and he grabs Ace's hips hard enough to bruise, biting into his shoulder as he does a couple of shallow thrusts before burying himself deep and spilling into the condom.

* * *

Ace wakes up in the still lit room, Jake's sprawled out body next to him notifying him that they both apparently passed out after the mind-blowing sex. Ace's throat feels dry (probably from shoving a cock repeatedly down his throat), so he wobbles downstairs to get some water, a delightful ache in his backside.

It's pitch black outside but the downstairs is still lit, and Ace turns off a couple of obnoxiously bright lights as he makes his way to the kitchen. It's chilly, the fire having died out a long time ago, and Ace shivers and reaches for a blanket on the back of the couch. It turns out to be Jake's flannel, and he mentally shrugs before putting it on.

He's drinking a glass of water, leaning against the kitchen counter, when he hears thuds from the stairs and a sleepy Jake enters the kitchen.

“Heya, handsome,” Ace purrs, gaze roaming over the other's naked chest appreciatively. Sadly, Jake has decided to put on pants, and even more tragically, they're flannel pajama pants. Jake rubs at an eye and yawns, before freezing mid-yawn upon spotting Ace. Is he upset that Ace wandered off? That he's using the kitchen unsupervised? He doesn't have time to ask, because Jake is leaning in and claiming his lips in a passionate kiss.

It's not rough or needy like before. It's just… enjoyable. Ace is happy Jake still seems to want him after the urgent need to end the dry spell is sated. Jake leans into him, pressing him against the counter as he sensually plunders his mouth, hands settling on his waist. When Jake pulls away and they're both slightly out of breath, Ace just has to ask.

“What was that for? Not that I'm complaining.”

“You're wearing my shirt,” Jake says, eyes roaming up and down Ace's torso. There's something possessive in his eyes that should make Ace want to bolt, but instead makes his dick stir.

“It's cold down here. I mistook it for a quilt,” Ace quips.

When Jake smiles at his joke and leans back in for another kiss, Ace places the glass on the counter so he can wrap his arms around Jake's neck and kiss him properly.

They sleep in the same bed even though they don't have sex again that night, and that has to be a first for Ace. When he hesitates on top of the stairs, glancing between the master and guest bedrooms, Jake sleepily tugs on his hand as if to say 'what's the hold up?' and Ace obediently follows him back to the man’s bedroom.

For the record, Ace doesn't do cuddling and he tells Jake as much.

…But is it really cuddling if he scoots closer to Jake and slings an arm around him? Strictly for warmth, of course.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ace learns it's best not to overthink things and manages to have another great day with Jake. The sex is an unexpected bonus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello this fic is now explicit. i wasn't going to write porn but here we are ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Ace wakes up to the smell of something frying. He's alone in the big bed and there's an extra blanket covering him that makes his instinct to bolt flare up.

And sure, Jake has been very generous during the entire trip so far, cooking for him and carrying his bag and whatnot. But Ace can rationalize those things; Jake feels obliged since he's the host, and it's probably not a huge trouble to make extra food.

But the blanket? There's no reason for the blanket, it's a one-person fleece blanket and very pointedly positioned only over Ace. It was even tucked in, for Christ's sake!

Ace sits in the bed and has a mental breakdown over the blanket for a good ten minutes. It's such an innocent gesture, but shows that Jake cares about his well-being, wanting Ace to be comfortable in the slight chill of the room. And damn, he did sleep like a baby, not even having noticed Jake get up and go about his morning downstairs. This was supposed to be one-time thing only, not whatever the hell the blanket symbolizes.

Ace gets dressed in the guest room and tries to calm himself down. He eventually decides that Jake, unlike Ace, is just a decent human being that's courteous to his one-night-stands. He probably didn’t mean anything by it.

Feeling the chill and seeing the cloudy weather, Ace pulls on chinos and his tastefully tacky knit sweater. Hopefully they're not going fishing again or the pants will be ruined.

Ace finally makes his way downstairs, salivating at the delicious smells wafting up the stairs. He spots Jake by the stove, adding vegetables to a frying pan. It's so… domestic. He's dressed in sweats and a t-shirt that clings to his broad shoulders, and Ace starts drooling from more than just the food. Jesus, what the hell is wrong with him?

Objectively, he can see that Jake is just a normal guy; with his bedhead and a shaggy stubble-beard hybrid and worn, unflattering sweats and a t-shirt that has a grease stain on the hem. Still, right now Jake is somehow the most attractive person on the planet to him and he starts hardening in his pants like a teenager. Damn, who knew getting a good fuck followed by a decent night's sleep without the worry of loan sharks busting down his motel room door would make his libido kick into overdrive.

“Hungry?” Jake offers over his shoulder, and Ace realizes he's been blatantly staring. ‘Yeah, for your ass,’ Ace thinks and approaches Jake with a spring in his step, trying to shake his lewd thoughts. Jake didn't appreciate him interrupting his cooking last night, so he doubts he'll get a different reaction this time if he tries to make a move.

“Yeah, looks delicious,” Ace says instead, leaning over Jake's shoulder to peek into the skillet. He idly realizes Jake is taller than him, since he has to stand on the balls of his feet to see over his shoulder. Jake is frying some sort of chorizo along with the vegetables, before cracking a couple of eggs into the mix. “Although you _do_ know I'm capable of feeding myself, right? You don't have to play housewife," Ace grins.

Ugh, Jake is so close and his fingers itch to touch. He wants to lean into Jake's strong body and run his hands all over his solid chest, before dipping down into his sweats—

“Shut up and let me take care of you,” Jake says with a snark, but Ace's mind immediately jumps to last night where a husky ‘let me take care of you’ was followed by slick fingers in his ass and a hand on his leaking cock.

Ace groans and buries his face in the crook of Jake's neck, trying to resist rutting his half-chub against Jake's ass like an animal. He settles on squeezing the flesh with his hands instead, which isn’t much better.

Fuck, what's gotten into him? Everything Jake says turns him on, and now he's groping the poor guy who's just trying to cook breakfast in peace. Damn, the sweater is suddenly way too hot. ‘Must be the heat from the kitchen,’ Ace lies to himself.

Jake, thankfully, just huffs out a dry laugh.

“You're ridiculous,” he says but it somehow sounds like a compliment. He takes the pan off the heat and switches off the stove before turning around to face Ace and God, he's handsome. Is Jake going to kiss him? Bend him over a counter and have his way with him? At this point, Ace is down for anything.

“Later,” Jake promises huskily, leaning down to nip at his neck with his teeth. Ace is about to ask ‘which one’ when he realizes that no, Jake still can't read his mind. But hey, now he knows he's getting laid today! A grin spreads over his face.

The omelet is delicious. The sausage has some type of chili in it and he learns Jake, like him, is a fan of spicy foods. He asks if he's into Korean cuisine and Jake pauses and admits he doesn't know how to cook any.

“My father wanted us to be raised Western,” Jake says, moving to poke at his food absently. “We weren't allowed to eat Korean food or watch the shows or even meet any of our relatives that lived outside of the States.”

“Is that why you're called Jacob and Jeremy?” Ace recalls their very distinctly non-Korean names.

“I see you've done your research,” Jake huffs without humor in his voice. Oops; maybe he shouldn't have brought up Jake's brother. “In a nutshell, yeah. Anything Korean was outlawed, since he wanted to raise us to fit his American dream. Even had us play baseball in high school. My brother grew balls and married for love, so he was cut off.”

“But… why?" Ace can't figure out. “Your brother has like an all-American family, kids and a picket fence and the whole shebang." Well, Jake already knows he snooped, might as well go all in. "Isn't that what your dad wanted?”

Jake looks at him with confusion on his features, eyebrows scrunching up. Then, his mouth quirks up in a small, fond smile.

“His wife is black,” Jake simply offers, like that explains everything. And in a way, it does.

“Oh. Right,” Ace says and feels pretty dumb for a minute. Just because he doesn't even blink at seeing interracial couples, doesn't mean that old, nasty fart won't. He idly wonders if Mr. Park possesses a single redeeming quality.

Then his mouth quirks up into a smile. What would the geezer say if he found out his favorite son was sleeping not only with a man, but with a Latino at that? If both his sons were married to—

 _Hold the fucking phone_. Where the hell did that thought come from? Ace frowns and blames Jake for being stupidly domestic earlier. Marriage is for green cards and gold digging and mortgages, no exceptions.

Ace starts shoveling food into his mouth so he doesn't have to talk, and daydreams about pushing Mr. Park's wheelchair down the stairs so he doesn’t have to think about his feelings. Jake quirks an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything and finally goes back to eating his food instead of staring holes into it.

* * *

After the meal, Jake takes him hiking. Ace, unsurprisingly, doesn't have proper shoes and Jake's fit him funny so they only go up a ‘small’ hill (it takes like an hour and Ace is winded as fuck when they get there) to look over the lake. It's kind of worth it, the view is pretty but Ace's legs are killing him and he feels sweaty and gross.

Jake pulls out a blanket from his backpack for them to sit on, which makes it a little more bearable and Ace's feet get some relief. Then, he procures a cooler, and Ace watches in disbelief as Jake hands him an ice-cold beer.

“Marry me,” Ace jokes as he opens the chilled beverage. The joke still makes him feel a little uneasy because of his earlier internal freak-out, but when Jake just chuckles and sits next to him and they enjoy their beers in companionable silence, some of the tension seeps out from Ace's body. Humor always was his best way of ~~denial~~ processing things. Jake's chill and no-nonsense personality is calming, and makes the unfamiliar situation Ace has gotten himself into feel like the most natural thing in the world.

* * *

What's _also_ the most natural thing in the world is that Ace insists on joining Jake in the shower when they get back to the cabin and gets on his knees almost as soon as the water starts running, causing Jake to yelp in surprise. What, did Jake expect them to shower together and Ace to _not_ blow him?

When Jake eventually curses and spills down his throat, Ace is almost ready to bust a nut himself. He eagerly swallows everything Jake has to give, before moving up for a hungry kiss. Jake responds, slow and sated from his orgasm, and Ace makes a mental note that Jake isn't disgusted by tasting himself.

He presses his leaking cock against Jake's thigh insistently in a way that would make him cringe from embarrassment if he was any less horny. Jake smiles against his lips and pulls away, looking at Ace with half-lidded eyes and water cascading down his chest. Ace would be totally fine with just looking at that handsome face and humping himself to completion against Jake's leg.

“I'll eat you out after the shower,” Jake says huskily and Ace lets out a pitiful whine at the promise. “ _If_ you can wait,” he adds, a playful tone in his voice.

Ace focuses on showering as fast as possible, but Jake is taking his time, lathering himself up and even washing his hair, his face slack in pleasure as the warm water caresses his hot body— _focus_ , Ace shakes his head and grabs the shampoo, squeezing with more force than necessary.

Because of Jake's show, the anticipation of what's to come, and the fact that the other insists on ‘helping’ Ace, lazily stroking his cock and a soapy hand rubbing over a nipple, Ace is painfully hard the entire duration of the shower.

When they finally towel themselves off and Jake leads him to his bedroom, a husky command of “on your knees” as soon as the door slides shut, Ace almost sobs in relief as he flings himself onto the bed and raises his ass high in the air like a bitch in heat. He can't remember the last time he was hard for this long, and frankly he didn't even know his body was capable of it anymore. Usually, he would have taken matters into his own hands ages ago.

Jake grabs him by the softness around his hips and self-consciousness about his love handles is the last thing on Ace's mind as Jake's hot breath fans across his crack.

“Please,” Ace hears himself whine into the mattress, lust apparently doing weird things to his brain because he’s _not_ the type of person to beg. Jake kisses his buttock and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like “good boy” and Ace's treacherous dick twitches happily and he doesn't know how to feel about that, but then he can't think at all because Jake's lips are on his rim and he moans brokenly and clutches the expensive sheets.

Jake mouths at his ass without any shame or hesitation, making Ace whimper into the mattress. It's been so long since anyone did this to him, he almost forgot how good it feels. Jake groans appreciatively and hands leave Ace’s hips to spread his cheeks wider, Jake burying his face deeper and eagerly lapping at his hole. Ace doesn’t think he's ever met someone so enthusiastic about eating ass, and his eyes roll into the back of his skull from the pleasure. Jake isn't rushed or sloppy, he's methodical and almost reverent as he lavishes his pucker with attention.

Ace drinks in every second of it, expecting Jake's hand to find his dick or the other to order him to jerk off any minute now. That moment never comes, and Jake seemingly doesn't tire of licking his ass over and over, Ace clenching and whining every time Jake moans or hums happily against the flesh. He decides that Jake is a fucking catch and Mr. Park should be lynched for keeping such a treasure from the gay community.

Ace loses track of time and everything around him that isn't the tongue on his ass or Jake's scruffy beard chafing against his taint or his neglected cock leaking onto the sheets. Jake alternates between licking him open and drawing nonsensical patterns against the outside or his hole, pace never slowing down. During any other circumstances Ace wouldn't mind continuing for as long as Jake wants to, but he's been pent up since the morning and painfully hard for what has to be an hour straight by this point. The need to come is unbearable and the puddle he's drooled against the sheets is a little gross.

“More”, Ace whines. He's not sure what ‘more’ means, but when Jake's fingers press firmly against his rim, he clenches and lets out a grateful sob, cock twitching happily from the added stimulation. Jake thumbs around the rim, the pad of his finger slipping in briefly, before he's pulling away and leaving Ace cold and empty.

“Need some lube, sit tight,” Jake says and the bed bounces as he stands up.

Ace glances over his shoulder and sees the ass eating champ rifling through a drawer. Jake is panting and there's a flush on his neck and chest, beard glistening from spit and fingers trembling slightly as he finds the bottle he's looking for. Ace feels a little better knowing he's not the only one who looks wrecked.

Ace’s gaze travels lower and he can't help a small smile when he notices Jake's still soft cock. No matter how much he feels like a horny teenager with Jake, the truth is they'll never have that kind of stamina again, and have to deal with the limitations that come with their aging bodies—and he's completely okay with that fact. He wouldn't trade Jake for a younger guy. Ace’s dick starts flagging a bit but his heart clenches from the mushy thoughts.

Jake turns around, fingers now slick with lube, and pauses upon seeing Ace smiling stupidly while his head lays in a puddle of his own drool.

“You doing okay?” Jake asks, climbing onto the bed and leaning a bit to the side to study Ace's face curiously.

“More than okay,” Ace says, trying for a smirk but ends up smiling heartily instead, feeling his eyes crinkle at the corners. His dick picks up interest upon Jake’s proximity, and now both his heart and cock are pulsing. Fuck, he's a mess.

Jake smiles, and hey, look—he does have wrinkles, they’re only noticeable when he's smiling. He should really smile more, it’s a good look on him.

Ace doesn't have time to ponder upon Jake's expressions further, because the other places a quick peck on his shoulder before moving back into position by his still exposed ass. Apparently not able to resist, Jake leans in for one last taste that makes Ace's breath hitch before there's slick fingers joining the fray and two easily slipping into his loosened hole and Ace moans at being filled. The tongue pauses as fingers probe at his insides, stroking along the walls as if searching.

“Ah!” Ace yelps as Jake hits his prostate a little too firmly, his dick jumping at the contact.

“Sorry,” Jake offers before his fingers rub at the gland gently and his tongue goes back to lapping at his rim. Ace clings to the sheets as Jake expertly stimulates him, moaning brokenly and grinding his hips back to try to feebly take more of the offered digits. Jake gets the hint and starts thrusting his fingers in and out while kissing at the spot where they disappear into his body, and it feels _amazing_ —

“Jake, Jake, fuck! I can’t—” Ace chants between moans, heat coiling deep in his gut. His whole body is tensing up, it's so good and he needs to come—

“Relax,” Jake's calm voice is hazy with lust. “I've got you.”

His voice is so damn soothing, and Ace relaxes his rigid muscles despite himself. Jake grabs his hip with his spare hand and starts moving Ace up and down onto his fingers and face, keeping an insistent pressure on his prostate. He realizes what Jake is trying to do, but he's not sure he can, it's been years—

“Fuck!” Ace is snapped out of his thoughts when a third finger joins the fun and he's stretched deliciously wide. The burning stretch, the lewd slurping at his rim, and the amazing massage against his prostate are suddenly too much to bear and his hips stutter and he spills untouched with a silent gasp.

The waves of pleasure rip through him from the very core and he clenches around Jake's fingers, slack mouth hanging open from the orgasm. When it’s done, Ace bonelessly slumps down but a hand around his waist stops him from falling down into the cum-stained sheets. Jake pulls his fingers out of his surely gaping hole and lays Ace on his side a little ways off from the mess he made on the bed. Ace is still twitching and high on the dopamine but manages a weak “thanks” before his head hits the soft pillow and he tries not to doze off instantly.

He watches Jake wipe his face onto… something, before it's dark and Ace feels the blanket being pulled away from under him. He blinks his eyes back open and sees Jake leave the room with the cum-stained comforter and return a heartbeat later with a clean one, probably from the guest room.

“Sorry about that,” Ace weakly quips, now having regained some of his senses.

“I'm not,” Jake says. “That was probably the hottest thing I've seen in my life.”

Ace is pretty sure that if he wasn't half asleep the honest compliment would manage to fluster him. Now, he just blinks tiredly while Jake drapes the comforter over him.

“You should get some rest.” Jake offers. “I'll get a fire started.”

“Can it wait?” Ace asks. Jake pauses.

“…Yeah,” he decides, crawling under the covers. Jake scooches over on Ace's side—not that they _have_ sides, it's Jake's bed after all, Ace reminds himself.

…But if they did, Ace's would be the left side.

As Jake presses against his back, Ace tries to remember the last time he's spooned with someone, and he can’t ever recall being the little spoon. But when Jake's strong arms wrap around him and he pecks his neck before burying his face between Ace's shoulder blades and starts to doze off, Ace can't think of a single negative thing about the whole situation. He's pretty sure he drifts off with a dopey smile on his face and his fingers tangled with Jake's over his chest.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ace knew he'd have to say goodbye, but it's still harder than he thought. Luckily, Jake has other ideas.

Ace, again, wakes up alone. It's already dark and he must have been out cold for hours, the blanket from the morning laying on top of him again. There's a chill in the room when he gets up and glances around for—there, his clothes, piled neatly on top of the dresser. This time, there's no dread following the knowledge that Jake looks after him, only a dumb fluttering deep in his gut.

Ace gets dressed (but swings by the guest room to get a clean undershirt and boxers, because he's not wearing the same ones as on the hike like a barbarian) and makes his way downstairs, legs still a little wobbly from having been on his knees for so damn long.

He finds Jake sitting on the couch in front of a crackling fireplace. He's wearing yet another flannel with a cargo vest on top, and it shouldn't look good but fuck, it does, and it's only something Jake and his stupid rugged charm could pull off.

“You hungry? I made some stew,” Jake says, perking up when he hears Ace walk down the stairs. Ace notices the rich scent of hearty food waft from the kitchen and as if on cue, his stomach growls. The corner of Jake's mouth quirks up.

“No use bluffing now,” Ace jokes.

They eat the stew in front of the fire, and Ace realizes the cabin is colder than usual. Jake wasn't kidding when he said he needed to get the fire going earlier. In Ace's not-so-humble opinion, the spooning was worth the slight chill. Plus it’s kind of cozy to sit by the fire.

“Have you had catfish before?” Jake asks, causing Ace to do a double take.

“ _This_ is catfish? The one you caught?” he asks, incredulously pointing at the stew with his fork.

“The one _you_ caught,” Jake corrects, a strange tinge of pride in his voice at Ace's accidental outdoor success.

“How do you manage to make something this delicious from that ugly fucker?” Ace continues.

“Lots and lots of spices,” Jake grins, apparently pleased by the compliment.

“How the hell are you still single?” Ace jokes. He realizes his mistake when Jake's smile falters and he starts poking at his food. “Sorry, I—that was in poor taste.”

“Nah, it's… I just don't wanna go back tomorrow. I mean I never do, but. Especially now,” Jake simply offers.

Ace kind of understands. But they have lives to lead and it's not like they can ignore everything else and stay up here and fuck and drink and eat and not-cuddle indefinitely. Though if Jake asked him to stay for a few more days, he’d find it difficult to say no.

“Yeah, I have a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that you and that guy in a suit and with a royal stick up his ass are the same person,” Ace jokes.

“I can't believe the greasy scammer I thought was gonna drug me just came on my fingers and drooled on my chest in his sleep,” Jake shoots back with a smirk.

“I do _not_ drool in my sleep!” Ace protests, hand on his chest in mock offense.

“Sure you don't. Now eat your stew, Aurora,” Jake sasses. Ace can't believe he just got owned by a Disney princess snark. But at least Jake's eating again.

Ace mulls over what Jake said. He kind of thought Jake to be the one with a double life, not him. Ace considers himself pretty honest, maybe not to others but at least to himself. But let’s be fair; he's not. He's scared of opening up, because it leads to being betrayed— _always_. He sneaks glances at Jake and tries to think about what he _really_ wants.

He finishes the stew and can only reach one conclusion: he wants Jake. Not someone who is rich like Jake, or who looks like Jake, or who fucks like Jake or drapes silly blankets over him like Jake. He may not want him after a year, or a month, or even tomorrow, but right now? He wants nothing more than to be with Jake.

But with the realization comes pain. This is only a one-time thing, and after tomorrow he probably won't see the other ever again. Hell, Jake might even kick him out tonight if he gets bored of him. If Ace has learned anything, it's to not get comfortable, to not take anything for granted, and to not trust anyone.

No matter how much he wants to.

Jake gently takes the empty plate from his hands and Ace mutters an absent-minded “thanks” after him. Jake soon returns to the couch, making himself comfortable in one of the corners and lays his arm of the backrest invitingly.

“What's the weirdest food you’ve eaten?” Jake asks, his playful tone making Ace snap out of the somber thoughts.

Ace smiles; another thing he lives by is to take it one day at a time and roll with whatever life throws his way. So he seizes the opportunity, scooching under Jake’s offered arm and laying his head on his shoulder and starts telling the story of how he ended up eating two servings of bull testicles to settle a bet.

He doesn't know how long they sit and talk on the couch with Jake’s arm around him. Jake asks a lot of light-hearted questions and seems to like hearing Ace talk about inconsequential things. They pointedly don't ask or talk about the other's past or the future.

Ace doesn't even bat an eye when Jake later drags him to his bedroom. They settle under the covers and if Ace's goodnight kisses are a little desperate and Jake's hand cards reverently in his hair, nobody can see that in the darkness of the room.

* * *

Jake is still in bed when Ace wakes up the next morning, apparently having waited for him to rouse. They make out and lazily jack each other off, ruining the remainder of the sheets. Jake makes breakfast while Ace insists on putting the sheets in the washer, and afterwards, they eat the food in silence. Ace tries to make small talk and quips a few jokes, but the fake smile he forces doesn’t fool either of them.

Jake shaves and puts on a dress shirt and jeans, and while it's nowhere near the level of the suit, it's still a jarring change. Jake looks so uncomfortable and it makes Ace's heart clench in sympathy.

They don't talk about whatever this weekend was. Ace wouldn't mind seeing Jake again, but he accepts that it's just not in the cards for him. At least the short time they had together was amazing and will surely become one of his fondest memories.

When they’re leaving and Jake is locking up, the man pauses.

“Did you forget something?” Ace asks, confused.

“Do you wanna do this again?” Jake asks hastily, whipping around to look at him.

“Do… what, exactly?” Ace asks, resisting the urge to jump up and down and scream ‘fuck yes’ from being given a chance to see the man again.

“Come up here. Together,” Jake says.

“Uhh, sure. When?” Next summer? Christmas? Ace tries to keep his expectations low; he isn't going to be around these parts forever, but he can probably make it if he knows in advance. Fuck, he'd come ever if he was on the other side of the country—

“…Next week?” Jake says, hesitantly. Ace blinks, letting the words sink in. And then he grins.

“I'd love to.”

Hey look, it's another of those rare smiles again as Jake's whole face lights up and the awkward tension between them melts away.

* * *

Ace almost misses the bus because they end up kissing and groping each other on the porch for a good ten minutes. And then, there's the… incident.

“Aren't you going to buy a ticket?” Jake asks when Ace jumps out of the car and heads toward the bus. _Shit_. He should have at least pretended to go into the station first.

“I, uh…” Ace flounders. He glances at the schedule on the station's LED screen; he has four minutes until his bus leaves. Fuck. He looks back at Jake's concerned face. “I'm a little tight on money right now,” he settles on being honest.

Jake immediately fishes out his wallet. “NO!” Ace protests and manages to startle even himself with how vehemently against Jake paying he suddenly is. “It's my own damn fault. Not your problem.”

"You blew like two hundred in the casino!” Jake exclaims. Ace sighs. Fantastic timing for him to remember that.

“I have a gambling problem, in case you haven't realized," Ace settles on, looking back up. Two minutes. “Jake, I really have to go—”

"I can give you a ride,” Jake insists.

“That’s like a three hour detour!" Ace exclaims. Damn it, Jake knows they’re going opposite ways and would still offer to drive him? Ace can’t accept that. “Look, I've been doing this my whole life. I'll be fine."

“…Call me if you get in trouble.”

“Will do! See ya!”

Ace bolts into the bus at the last second, drawing the attention of a ticket inspector lingering nearby.

He promptly gets kicked out next station and has to hitchhike into the city. Oh well, that's life. No use worrying Jake, though. He just hopes Jake will still want to see him after knowing how broke he is.

Ace settles on a shitty motel halfway to where he was originally going. After he’s checked in and flops down on the bed, his real phone beeps. A message?

It's a fishy link and something about a ticket. ‘Please check the details’, ‘Edits are free of charge’…What? He clicks the link and it opens a bus ticket in his phone's browser. For next Friday.

Ace stares. And stares some more. Then it hits him; Jake. He grins. What a bastard.

' **sneaky little shit** ,' Ace texts the man.

‘ **I don't know what you're talking about ;)** ’

A winky face? The absolute _gall_ of this man.

‘ **i told you i don't want your money** ’

Wow, it feels weird to type that out. Ace tries to think back if he’s ever rejected hand-outs before, but draws up a blank.

His phone buzzes and lights up, notifying him of Jake’s reply.

‘ **And I want to see you without having to worry that you'll go broke from bus fares.** ’

‘ **worth it** ’

Ace is grinning when he types it. He’s been in a monetary pinch for a while, he’d gladly spend his last dollars on redoing the weekend.

‘ **You can change the day or time or whatever. Just let me know when to pick you up.** ’

Ace gets the hint, sending a final ‘thanks’ and flopping down on the bed. He’s a little disappointed Jake didn’t take the bait, he could’ve gone for phone sex or at least some flirty messages. Still, he falls asleep on the cheap motel bed with a dumb smile on his face and clutching his phone over his heart.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite being apart for a week, it's so easy to pick up right where they left off.

Friday comes around sooner than expected and Ace gets on the bus; a proper one this time, with cushioned seats and Wi-Fi and everything. Jake hasn't texted much during the week, only confirming he'll be there to pick Ace up from the station. Ace assumes he's busy with rich people son-of-the-CEO-things.

Ace doesn't know what to expect. The distance has allowed him to think about the situation somewhat clearly, and he's not exactly sure why he's so infatuated with Jake. He's good-looking and funny and weirdly charming and all, but is it really enough for Ace to throw his strict no-strings-attached policy out the window?

And then he sees Jake get out of the ugly truck, and Jake’s face softening into a small smile as soon as their eyes meet makes all his hesitation disappear. _Yes_ , it's worth it.

“Hey," Ace greets, a grin on his face. Damn, Jake is just as handsome as he remembered.

* * *

Ace makes small talk that he doesn’t remember anything of during the car ride, since most of his brain capacity is reserved for ogling Jake and trying not to jump him. He’s a little disappointed he hasn’t even gotten a kiss yet, but he tries to be patient.

He’s rewarded as soon as they enter the cabin, when Jake pulls him into his arms for a passionate kiss. Ace moans and melts into the touch, hands immediately sneaking under Jake’s shirt to feel him up. So he’s a little desperate, who cares?

Mid-kiss, Ace notices the scent of smoked fish in the air.

“Did you make dinner?” he asks, pulling back to look at Jake curiously.

“Mm,” Jake hums in answer, gaze roaming up and down his body appreciatively. “Hungry?”

Ace wants to say no, but that’s a big fucking lie. He did grab a sandwich before the bus ride, but the delicious smell is making his body demand food before fucking.

“Yeah,” Ace sighs reluctantly. “Don’t get me wrong, it smells amazing—” he hurries to add.

“We’ll have time,” Jake interrupts with a smirk, patting his rump affectionately before moving to set the table.

Ace tries to be responsible and savor the food, but he's finding it almost impossible to focus on eating with the thick sexual tension in the air. Jake finishes his plate first, so Ace scarfs down the last of his meal while Jake snorts and tells him he’ll choke on a bone if he’s not careful.

But Ace’s plan works and not even five minutes later he’s choking on Jake’s boner instead.

When Jake starts cursing and Ace’s head is being pulled up, he reluctantly lets the dick fall out of his mouth to allow Jake to guide him into a kiss.

“You’re so fucking good,” Jake breathes against his lips and the compliment makes Ace’s stomach do a flip and a witty comeback die on his tongue. Jake leans back in, and Ace lets him roll them over so the other is on top while his mouth is getting plundered by Jake’s tongue.

Ace loses himself in the kiss and doesn’t even notice Jake grabbing the lube, but soon there’s slick fingers prodding at his crack. Ace hums appreciatively and spreads his legs, and when his breath hitches from the tip of a finger breaching him, Jake pulls away from the kiss.

Jake preps him while looking at his face, and Ace flushes from being on display. It feels a little too intimate, definitely not what he’s used to.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Ace tries to joke, averting his eyes as he feels his face heat up. Jake smirks in amusement but, thankfully, gets the hint and leans down to lick at a nipple instead, and the action is a lot more familiar to Ace as he moans and tugs on Jake’s hair.

Fuck, he’s so pent up and Jake is taking his sweet time. The lone finger in him stills while Jake focuses on rolling his nipple between his teeth and even though Ace keens from the great sensation, he’s getting impatient.

“Come on, fuck me,” Ace says, his voice breathless from arousal, grinding down on Jake’s hand for emphasis.

“But you’re not ready—" Jake starts, pulling his finger away and reaching for the lube again.

“Yeah I am,” Ace interrupts. Jake still doesn’t look convinced, so Ace hooks his arms beneath his knees, spreading himself obscenely. “I want to feel it,” he pleads, biting his lip for added effect.

Shit, was that too much? He might be getting too old to pull off this stunt.

He doesn’t have to ponder long, because Jake’s eyes darken and very obviously zero in on his hole. Jake swallows audibly and utters a simple “ _Fuck_ ” before reaching for a condom. Ace smirks victoriously; he’s still got it.

Before long, Jake's well-lubed tip finally breaches him, and Ace throws his head back against the pillow and lets out a filthy moan. He can feel Jake’s stare on his face again, and this time it’s not unwelcome, he’s so far gone it just turns him on more.

“God, you’re tight,” Jake groans, hips stuttering a little as his self-control momentarily fails him.

“More,” Ace whines greedily. He can’t help the moans spilling out when Jake starts humping into him, forcing Ace to take more of his cock with each shallow thrust. Jake feels amazing inside of him, the slight burn of being fucked open making his nerves sing.

“You look so good,” Jake praises when he finally bottoms out, hands grabbing Ace’s shaking thighs. Ace lets his strained arms fall against the bed, trusting Jake to take over. He’s promptly hoisted up a little, Jake slinging one of Ace's legs over his shoulder so he can grab his leaking dick, and Ace rewards him by squeezing down on him and letting out a grateful whine.

Jake starts fucking him deep and steady, pumping Ace’s cock and groaning encouragement in his ear. There’s only so many husky comments about how hot he looks and how perfect he feels that Ace can take before he comes embarrassingly fast, spilling onto Jake’s hand and his own stomach with a groan. He doesn’t even have time to stutter out an apology, because Jake finishes right after with a silent gasp, cock pulsing deep inside of him.

* * *

“I got you something,” Jake says and opens one of the closets after they've collected themselves and indulged in some post-sex cuddles.

Ace sits up on the bed curiously as the door opens to reveal a full set of outdoors clothes. There's a windbreaker, a puffy vest, what looks like a rain jacket, along with sturdy jeans and hiking boots, sneakers and…

“Pink rubber boots,” Ace says flatly.

“Knew you'd like them,” Jake has the audacity to smirk. “I hope the rest of the stuff isn't too hideous. I don't have your fashion sense.”

“Wait, this is for me?” Ace realizes. “All of it? What the hell Jake, this must have cost a fortune!”

What part of ‘I don’t want your money’ does Jake not understand? Even now, Jake just shrugs.

“I wanna take you hiking without worrying you'll freeze to death or get blisters,” he simply offers.

“I can't accept this,” Ace says, even though the man has a point. It’s not like Ace can afford any on his own, and it has to be annoying for Jake that he’s far from dressed for the weather.

“At least borrow them whenever you need,” Jake suggests.

“…Okay,” Ace relents, and then remembers his manners. “Um, thank you.”

“Oh! And I got you one of these,” Jake seems to recall, fishing out some kind of remote from the jacket’s front pocket. It probably says something about Ace that his first instinct is ‘butt plug’.

“…What is it?" he asks, squinting at the object.

“It's like an ultrasound emitter… thing,” Jake eloquently puts. Ace raises an eyebrow. “A mosquito repellent.”

Ace's face lights up and he jumps Jake to give him a big smooch.

“You sure know how to make a guy happy,” Ace grins.

Ace tries on some of the questionably out-of-style clothing, and Jake suggests they go on a small hike to try out the equipment. Ace is happy to agree, a little hyper from sitting in the bus for hours. He grabs the mosquito repellent and prays that it works.

* * *

They’re only out for an hour before it starts to rain. Jake shows him a couple of hiking trails in the vicinity of the cabin and Ace, thankfully, doesn’t hear a single mosquito buzzing in his ear the entire time. The clothes are warm and comfortable, and even when they get caught in a downpour the last few minutes from the cabin, his clothes underneath the jacket and shoes miraculously stay dry.

Ace still insists on a shower to ‘warm up’ when they get back, dragging Jake in with him. Washing off the remainder of the gross sweat from the hike, sex and travel _and_ getting to run his hands all over Jake’s naked, soapy body? Yeah, the shower was a fantastic idea, and from the way Jake hungrily kisses him and grabs at his ass, the other agrees.

Ace’s mind wants to go for a round two but his body protests. The warm water is causing a tiredness to set in, so they end up finishing the shower normally, which doesn’t disappoint him as much as it should.

Jake heats up some sort of herbal tea and they turn the couch around to face the window, curling up together to watch the rain—obviously Jake’s idea. Ace doesn’t really care for watching water fall from the sky or the weird tasting beverage, but feeling Jake relax against him with a content sigh is worth it.

“Looks like a storm’s coming in,” Jake muses, blowing at his tea. Sure enough, Ace can hear the wind picking up and see the raindrops spattering aggressively against the porch.

“Are we going to die out here?” Ace tries to joke, but he’s a little nervous. He’s heard how unpredictable mountain weather can be, and if something happens help is miles away. But Jake just snorts, which alleviates some of his concern.

“I guess if you find a big tree and stand next to it, it could fall on you if you’re lucky,” Jake muses.

“You have a strange definition of ‘lucky’,” Ace says, raising an eyebrow.

They watch the rain some more, talking about nonsensical things—mostly Ace rambling on about all his weird strokes of _actual_ luck and many winning streaks. The tea and drumming of raindrops against the porch (and maybe Ace’s voice?) seem to calm Jake down a lot, and eventually his head slumps against Ace’s shoulder and he starts drifting off.

Ace smiles and nuzzles into the damp, unruly mop of hair and lets Jake sleep for a little while. The poor guy has to be exhausted, working all week and driving up here for hours, not to mention making dinner and fucking and hiking? Meanwhile Ace has been doing fuck all the entire week, unless you count helping himself to some pretentious hipsters’ wallets at the farmer’s market and then throwing the money at a slot machine something productive.

He wonders what Jake thinks he does all day. Hell, sometimes even Ace doesn’t know what he does with all his spare time. At least he’s having fun.

‘But not as fun as this’, he thinks with a smile, resisting the urge to poke Jake’s nose as the other starts snoring softly. Apparently the tea is doing _something_ , because there’s a weird warm feeling spreading in his chest.

Ace carefully gets up from the couch, managing to position Jake against the backrest without waking him. He takes it upon himself to wash the dishes, and if his barely touched tea ends up down the drain, Jake will be none the wiser.

He’s able to rouse Jake just enough for him to make it up the stairs and faceplant onto the bed. Ace holds back a chuckle and ends up tucking them both in and cuddling up against an already sleeping Jake’s back.

* * *

At breakfast the next morning, Jake tells him they're going to some sort of animal sanctuary to look at birds. So, naturally, Ace dresses in his pastel turquoise sweater with flamingos for the occasion.

“What the fuck even is your wardrobe,” Jake sasses him, trying to hold back a smirk.

“Knew you'd like it,” Ace quips.

It's a pretty long drive, nearly two hours, but in the end, Ace supposes it’s worth it. The park is massive, and there's both an outdoor and indoor and outdoor section with huge cages. Jake has brought a pair of binoculars and is trying to spot all the different birds. It's kind of cute that he's clearly so into the animals.

“What's your favorite bird?” Ace finds himself wondering out loud.

Is that a normal thing to ask? Do people have favorite birds? Ace only remembers hearing that swans are hung as fuck.

“Uh. Crows,” Jake says, and is he _blushing?_ “It's a little lame, I know."

“Nah. Aren't they like, super smart?” Ace vaguely recalls.

“Yeah,” Jake smiles and, thankfully, doesn’t return the question and Ace can keep his questionable bird anatomy knowledge to himself.

* * *

“What did you think?” Jake asks when they're making their way back to the car.

“I really liked the parrots,” Ace says. The exotic birds section was really impressive, not to mention it was warm. It kind of reminded him of his home country.

“Ah yes, loud and proud and obnoxiously colored,” Jake sasses while pointedly looking at his shirt. Ace huffs out a surprised laugh, not prepared at being called out like that. “I like them too,” Jake adds with a small smile that makes the now vaguely familiar warmth spread through Ace’s chest once more.

They stop to get some Indian takeout on the way back, and Jake has the gall to _apologize_ for not making food.

“You’ve literally fed me the entire time,” Ace points out. “And you paid for my meal just now!”

“Yeah, but it’s so… basic,” Jake frowns, glancing at the steaming containers between them.

“Okay, next time? I’ll cook,” Ace threatens. “Then you’ll see what’s basic.”

“Really?” Jake asks, eyes widening in surprise. “You don’t have to—” he hurries to add.

“Nope, it’s decided!” Ace interrupts. He meant it as a joke, but seeing the other get hopefully excited? Hell yeah, he’s cooking for Jake.

* * *

“Thanks for coming with me today,” Jake says when they make it back to the cabin and are digging into their curries.

“It was fun,” Ace says. It was far from something he would have ever chosen to do on his own, but he enjoyed spending time with Jake and seeing the other in his element. Actually, it kind of… huh. “Kinda felt like a date,” Ace decides to voice his thought.

“That was the idea,” Jake says with a small smile.

“Oh,” Ace’s mind stutters to a halt as it tries to decide whether to panic or not. Jake just bites into his naan without a care in the world, and Ace wants to do the same. ‘Food first, panic later,’ he decides, taking a big bite of the aromatic bread.

They finish their meals and the panic never surfaces. Instead, Jake grabs a couple of beers from the fridge and throws a deck of cards on the table and asks if Ace can teach him to play poker and something in Ace’s chest clenches at how _right_ everything feels.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The distance allows Ace to sort out some of his confusing feelings.

Ace wakes up the next morning when Jake’s alarm goes off and he untangles himself from their embrace. So Ace does the only logical thing he can think of; he whines and wraps his arms around Jake’s torso, pulling him back into bed.

“Come on, let up,” Jake scolds but his voice is full of warmth. “We have to leave in a couple hours.”

“We have time,” Ace mumbles into the pillow, squeezing Jake tighter. He’s so warm and the bed is so comfortable, they could take a little nap together…

“Five more minutes and then we both get up,” Jake decides, already hopping back under the covers. “Deal?”

“Deal,” Ace grins against the pillow.

* * *

Five minutes turns into twenty and Jake ends up giving Ace a handy. Ace is about to return the favor, when Jake spots the pesky alarm clock on the bedside table and bolts out of bed with a curse. Ace sighs and follows suit, glaring at the stupid clock.

They eat a hurried breakfast, or at least Jake does. In Ace’s opinion they still have plenty of time, but Jake is really stressed. Just like last time, on the day they were leaving and Jake had to go back to his normal life.

He tries to make it as easy for Jake as he can, offering to clear the table and do the dishes. Jake gives him a grateful peck on his temple, hurrying off to pack his bags and shave and whatnot.

Ace finishes the chores and manages to get changed and pack his own bags with thirty minutes to spare. He awkwardly sits on the couch and watches Jake anxiously dart between the upstairs, bathroom and kitchen in a button-up and slacks and tie. It’s so out of character, and the constant scowl on Jake’s face tells him he’s far from happy with the situation.

Ace waits patiently for Jake to bring up meeting again. He waits for the half hour in the cabin, he waits when Jake locks up, and he waits the entire ride into town. But Jake doesn’t suggest getting together again, in fact he barely speaks at all, and Ace tries to quell the painful squeeze of disappointment in his gut.

They pull up to the station ten minutes before Ace’s bus leaves. Jake’s entire body language suggests he’s in a hurry, so Ace opens the door without a word.

And then he stops. What’s gotten into him? He knows their power dynamic shifts heavily in Jake’s favor, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a say. Ace has never had trouble speaking his mind before, and he’s not about to start now.

“Is this it?” Ace asks, and he doesn’t mean to sound so confrontational, but he’s a little sick of Jake’s mood swings.

“Huh?” Jake asks, confusion clear on his features.

“If you don’t want to see me again, just say so,” Ace snaps, and okay, he really needs to tone down the attitude—

“ _What_?” Jake asks, now extremely confused but apparently having snapped out of his slump. “Of course I want to see you!”

“Oh,” Ace says, a little dumbfounded. “It, uh, wouldn’t hurt to tell me.”

“I thought you knew,” Jake says, equally taken aback. “I didn’t take you on a date just for shits and giggles, you know. I really wanna see where this goes.”

How the hell is Ace supposed to know this stuff? His longest relationship is with his gambling addiction, and he sure as hell has never been _courted_ before.

“Right!” Ace says with fake enthusiasm, trying to psyche himself up after effectively making a fool of himself. “Glad that’s, uh, cleared up.”

“I’m just grumpy I have to go listen to a bunch of idiots with the personality of cardboard give PowerPoint presentations for the next three days,” Jake explains with a small quirk of his lips. “I’d much rather stay with you.”

Ace clears his throat and tries to not let it show how much the small compliment makes his pulse pick up. What is he even supposed to say to that?

“Gotcha,” he says instead, finally getting out of the car with his bag. “Text me?” Ace offers, and upon seeing Jake’s small smile and nod, he grins and closes the door, making his way to the bus with the ticket Jake bought for him earlier.

* * *

Ace stares out the bus window and thinks about how ridiculous it is that he's already looking forward to their next get-together.

Why has this man taken up so much of his life in just a few short weeks? Ace should be bored out of his mind by now, having no more illusions that the fling will lead to a life of luxury like he'd originally hoped. Now he's left with nothing more than a normal guy in tacky cargo pants and the dumb domesticity of a cabin in the middle of nowhere.

And, for some crazy reason, he likes it.

Maybe he's getting old. Maybe it's the easy access to sex. Or maybe it's the fact that he can finally relax and not have to look over his shoulder to avoid the cops or a gang he pissed off.

Still, he's not meant for that kind of life. His heart will always belong to the cards, and even now he's a little restless from not having had a chance to play for over a week. But his wins keep getting smaller and farther between, and he hasn't had a good streak going for years. His luck is running out, he's known that for a long time, but it's scary to admit. If he can't gamble, what the hell is he going to do?

That's why Jake is such a good distraction. It's something to focus his energy on so he doesn't have to freak out over how he's getting old and hasn't accomplished anything and he can probably only keep doing this for a few more years before he ends up dead in a ditch—

And that train of thought sure as hell won't help. Ace forces his brain to conjure up a memory of Jake sprawled out inelegantly and snoring in the ugly flannel pajamas, and he manages a small grin at the image.

He can easily wait until Friday. It's only a few days.

* * *

It’s already Thursday when he next hears from Jake.

‘ **Fuck, can’t make it this week. Bullshit came up. You free next weekend?** ’

Ace's brain is scrambling to try and figure out how to react, the weird fluttering that always accompanies Jake's texts mixing with disappointment from reading the words on the screen. He ends up frowning at his phone with his heart trying its best to fly out of his chest.

‘ **np try not to commit powerpoint murder. and yeah i’m free** ’

‘ **I swear I’m this close to stapling someone’s hand to the desk.** ’

Ace snorts a little at the mental image, before another message lights up the screen.

‘ **Gotta run, I’ll send you the ticket later** ’

* * *

The short exchange is what prompts Ace to get drunk in a shitty Irish pub a down the street from his motel. After all, he has to entertain himself this weekend _somehow_ , even if he’s starting a little early. Thursday is still a socially acceptable night to get drunk, right?

He’s downed three vodka shots and two or three… or four ciders, and pretends to watch the game that’s on. He tried to drink a beer but it reminded him of mountain air and flannel and just made him want to mope.

“Red or blue?” a voice asks him as another patron plops down in the chair next to Ace’s.

“… What?” Ace turns around, eyebrows scrunching up. Is the stranger offering him drugs?

“The game, mate,” the man huffs in amusement. “Who ya rootin’ fer?”

“I don’t really follow baseball,” Ace admits. The stranger quirks an eyebrow.

“Tha’s football, pal,” the man points out. “Or ‘soccer’ as ya yankees call it.”

Well, shows just how much Ace had been paying attention. Instead of being embarrassed, Ace merely shrugs.

“Fit, sweaty guys running around? It’s all the same to me,” Ace quips with a grin. The man smirks, and well, Ace didn’t exactly mean it as a pick-up-line, but the other is clearly intrigued.

“Name’s David,” the man says, extending a hand.

Ace watches the rest of the game with David and actually has a pretty good time, all things considered. He learns the team in red is from the man’s hometown in England and gets to see first hand just how passionate Brits are about their soccer, his companion cheering and swearing loudly at the game. David is rowdy and humorous, the accent giving him a charming edge, and Ace find himself playing along with the man’s banter, occasionally flirting back.

David is also a little handsy, leaning unnecessarily close to explain something about the players and excitedly pulling Ace into a one-armed hug when his team scores. Ace doesn't mind, he's far from a prude and he always did revel in getting attention. He didn't even realize how much the texts from Jake bruised his ego until David's flirting makes him puff up his chest and banter with familiar confidence.

But then the game ends and the pub starts closing up, and all the teasing is gone from David’s rough voice as he leans in to whisper in his ear.

“Can I take ya home, luv?”

Normally, Ace would be all over that offer; hell, he’d most likely have been the one to make the proposition in the first place. But now, as he looks up at David’s youthful, handsome face, he’s just reminded of how distinctly _not Jake_ the other is.

“Sorry, maybe another time,” Ace says with an apologetic grin.

It's only when he later lays his head down on the lumpy motel pillow that he realizes how big of a decision he just unconsciously made.

It's not like him and Jake are anywhere near exclusive. And even if they were, he's cheated before and he's self-aware enough to know he could probably do it again. And if Jake's situation was different, he'd most likely sleep around too—hell, maybe he already is, and being busy with work is just an excuse.

That direction of thoughts makes something unpleasant twist in his gut and he promptly abandons it, instead thinking back to this evening.

If he wanted to, he would have slept with David. It's not about him suddenly developing a moral compass, it's that he, somehow, genuinely didn't want to take David up on the offer. If he had went along with it, he'd probably eventually gotten in the mood. Maybe he was just too drunk tonight.

Ace tries to imagine David's strong body pinning him down on the bed, and the thought is... not horrible? David would have fucked him and he would have probably liked it. And maybe he'd even allowed David to stay the night, curling up against his muscular body—

Ace gags a little at the thought. What the hell? He'd just reluctantly started to accept that he's a cuddler, and now the idea makes him shudder in repulsion.

He thinks back to waking up with Jake's arms around him. Jake nuzzling into his neck with his sharp stubble that grows way too fast to be normal, while Ace laughs softly and turns around to give him a good morning kiss. Jake rolling them over and deepening the kiss while his hand sneaks into Ace's pants—

Aaand he's hard as a rock. So much for being too drunk to get it up.

Ace grabs his dick and lets the fantasy play out, and not even five minutes later he's panting hard and staring up at the moldy motel ceiling with splashes of cum on his hand and shirt.

What the hell is happening to him?

* * *

Ace doesn’t expect to hear from Jake until maybe Wednesday to sort out his ticket, so he’s surprised when his phone vibrates on Sunday evening. He almost doesn’t hear it because the group of backpackers on the other side of the hostel room are getting drunk and being incredibly loud.

‘ **Fuck, I miss you** ’

Ace feels his heart rate picking up from just those couple of words. Damn, he’s in deep shit. First turning down a handsome stranger, and now blushing like a schoolgirl from a mere text thrown his way. His fingers are typing before he’s even consciously decided what to answer.

‘ **could always stop by, get a room for the evening. if you feel like driving** ’

Ace’s heart hammers in his chest as he waits for the reply. Shit, if he hadn’t blown all his money at the pub he’d have a private room to invite Jake to, not this rickety bed in shared room in a cheap hostel in the shitty part of town.

‘ **Can’t** ’

Ace sighs. What was he even expecting? Serves him right for getting his hopes up.

‘ **They’re gonna notice if I leave. He has people checking my bank statements. It’d look suspicious as hell**.’

Oh. Right. Why the hell did Ace think it was a good idea to get involved with a closeted mob boss slash rich CEO son again?

‘ **But it’s really fucking tempting** ’

The addition makes him smile. He wants to believe Jake is trying his best, which would be a hundred times more than Ace deserves.

‘ **don’t sweat it** ’

He starts typing more, but hesitates. He feels like he’s bared more than he should already, but then again Jake hasn’t exactly been very subtle either. Maybe it’s okay to let his guard down, just this once?

‘ **i miss you too** ’

Ace’s fingers are shaking a little when he pushes the send button.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their reunion ends up being a little more than he bargained for, but Ace isn't complaining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like this chapter is even more ooc than usual but i really wanted to write jake bottoming ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Friday finally, _finally_ rolls around and when Ace gets off the bus Jake is already waiting for him. He’s still in a button-up and slacks, apparently having come straight from the office.

Ace barely has time to utter a greeting before Jake’s mouth is claiming his. Taken by surprise, Ace kind of stands there stupidly, luggage still in hand, before dropping the bag and wrapping his arms around Jake while they kiss.

He can feel stares on his back as the other passengers walk by, but he couldn't care less. Jake’s the one with a reputation to keep up, and if he's not bothered, Ace sure as hell won’t be either.

“Good to see you, too,” Ace grins when they pull apart, foreheads resting against each other. He’s always happy to see Jake, especially after the long break, but he’s on fucking cloud nine from having gotten a kiss in public. So maybe it’s risky and Jake’s family could find out, but it’s just so damn _nice_ not feeling like he’s a dirty little secret, and the grin stays on his face the entire car ride up to the lodge.

When Jake pulls out two boxes of takeaway pizza as they’re unloading the truck, Ace quirks an amused eyebrow.

“Shut up, it’s Friday,” Jake grumbles in fake annoyance. Ace finds it adorable, even though he keeps teasing him, asking whether he left his food snob taste buds back in the city.

The first thing Jake does when they arrive is change into a worn tee and cargo shorts, and he already looks so much more relaxed. The colors of his outfit clash awfully, but Ace keeps the comment to himself, not really giving two shits as long as Jake is comfortable. He heats up the pizza while Jake gets a fire going, the cabin chilly from being empty for two weeks.

After the meal, Jake is uncharacteristically clingy, practically crawling into Ace’s lap on the couch. Ace doesn’t mind in the slightest, holding Jake against him while the other’s face buries between his neck and shoulder.

“Rough week?” Ace asks, heart fluttering stupidly from finally getting to be close to the other man again.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Jake groans. “Fucking bullshit marketing team idiots can choke on a dick,” he mumbles against the skin of Ace’s neck and Ace huffs out a laugh at the juvenile language. He feels Jake take a deep breath, followed by a long sigh. “I’m just glad to be here. I really needed this,” he says, voice a lot softer, before placing a gentle kiss along Ace’s jaw.

“Just let me know if there’s anything else I can do,” Ace says suggestively, wagging his eyebrows when Jake pulls away to look up at him. He meant it mostly as a joke, but when Jake leans in for a hungry kiss instead, he’s more than on board with whatever the other is planning.

Jake’s neediness continues into the bedroom, where he lays down on the bed and pulls Ace on top of him.

"I missed you so much," Jake breathes against his lips, a hand running up Ace's neck to tangle gently in his hair.

Ace wants to return the sentiment, since he did miss Jake and he already said as much over text. But when he opens his mouth, no words come out; it's like there's a mental wall that he can't break down. So he settles for kissing Jake some more, pressing as close to him as possible to try to convey the message without words.

They help each other out of their clothes and Ace is surprised Jake hasn't taken charge yet, content to lay back and let Ace undress him while leisurely groping and kissing all over his body.

"Can..." Jake starts meekly when Ace nibbles at his neck, before clearing his throat. "Can you fuck me?"

The request manages to fry Ace's brain for a few seconds. Jake, now fully naked, is looking up at him with lust-blown pupils and a timid expression, like he's ashamed for even asking.

"I'd love to," he says, and it sounds a lot more breathless than he meant to, but apparently Jake appreciates it, hands tightening in his hair and biting his lip to suppress something that sounded almost like a whine. "I'll take care of you, don't worry."

What the hell is he saying? His mouth is running on autopilot, spewing mushy shit because Jake is so weirdly submissive and it's hot as fuck—

Now Jake _does_ whine, and the sound shoots straight to Ace's already excited dick. Apparently, mushy shit is exactly what Jake needs.

He grabs the lube and starts prepping Jake while languidly sucking his dick, but Jake still tenses when he tries pressing a finger into him.

"Shh," Ace reassures, taking a short break from the blowjob to try to soothe Jake's nerves. "Relax. I've got you."

His lover exhales shakily and some of the tension seeps out of his body. It's pretty obvious that he isn't used to bottoming, and Ace decides to do his damndest to try and make it good for him.

So he ends up doing the longest prep of his life, using way more lube than necessary and alternating between taking Jake's cock into his mouth and kissing his thigh and murmuring praise.

"Come on— _nngh_ ," Jake eventually encourages, voice cutting into a groan as Ace licks a broad stripe up his leaking cock. Ace wouldn't have minded to keep going, even if his hand is starting to cramp from the thorough fingering and his dick is flagging from concentrating so hard on Jake's sounds and body language.

It's not exactly a struggle to get hard when he has a horny, naked Jake laid out in front of him and looking up at him expectantly. Lucky for him, Ace has always performed well under pressure.

"How do you want me?" Ace asks with a cocky smile, ready to go with just a few pumps of his fist.

They end up on their sides, and when Ace squeezes an excessive amount of lube onto the condom Jake has the audacity to _snort_.

"Think that's enough?" Jake snarks, apparently finding ways to be a brat even when about to be fucked silly.

"Just making sure, cutie pie," Ace shoots back sweetly, lifting Jake's leg up and obnoxiously splaying the lube-covered hand on his thigh just to spite him.

Jake's smug smile fades into a low moan when Ace starts pushing into him. Even with all of the hard work to get him to loosen up, Jake is still tense and _so fucking tight_ —

"Come on baby, open up," Ace encourages, kissing at Jake's neck. "I'll be good to you, I promise."

Jake takes a couple of shallow breaths, before leaning his head back into Ace's kisses while his body finally yields.

Ace whines against his neck when the head of his cock slips into hot snugness, having to pause a moment to collect himself, his fingers digging into Jake's thigh. It's been a long time since he topped another guy, but this isn't just any guy, it's his Jake—

"Try to—" Ace starts with a raspy voice, before swallowing to ease the dryness in his throat. "You're pulling me in, but try to push instead."

How he's still coherent enough to give bottoming pointers is beyond him, but Jake is apparently a quick learner, and Ace feels the vice grip around his dick give way.

"That's it, you've got it," Ace praises, going back to kiss at Jake's neck. "You're doing so well— _fuuuck_ ," he curses when Jake arches his back and pushes back into him, making the rest of his dick slide smoothly into Jake's moaning and twitching body.

 _'Don't cum don't cum don't cum—'_ Ace bites his lip and screws his eyes shut, not having expected Jake to sink onto his dick in one fluid motion like a fucking porn star. After the two-week dry spell, it's almost enough to push him over the edge.

He's glad Jake doesn't mind him taking a breather, and soon they're both adjusted enough for Ace to do an experimental thrust. Jake pants and raises his leg higher, allowing Ace to go deeper as he starts a slow pace. And then Jake's breath hitches, and Ace doesn't know if it was a good sound or not, frowning due to the fact he can't see the other's face in this position.

"Do you mind if I get on top?" Ace asks, a quiet murmur against Jake's ear.

"Go ahead," an equally breathy voice answers him.

Ace reluctantly pulls out and gets on his knees before Jake. Jake looks so good, hazy eyes eagerly looking up at Ace and god, he's even holding his leg up for him, displaying his loosened, glistening hole _—_ damn it, focus.

This time, Ace is able to easily sink back in, and he gets a front row seat to the way Jake's eyelids flutter close and he sighs blissfully. He can't help but let out a moan of his own; this is so much better, he can see Jake enjoying himself and, with Jake helping to hold himself open, Ace can grab his dick with his spare hand.

Ace starts carefully pumping in and out, shallowly at first and going gradually deeper when Jake isn't displaying any signs of discomfort. It's intense and slow and feels like it's almost too much for both of them to handle. Ace never expected to end up making love and not fucking, but Jake whimpers softly at the gentle pace and tears prick at the corners of his eyes and Ace will do anything to keep that expression on his face.

When Jake comes, Ace just stares at his face in awe. He feels a little bit like a creep, but damn, Jake looks beautiful, face going slack from pleasure as he cries out and coats Ace’s hand with his cum. Ace loses himself for a minute, thrusts into the other’s overheated body stilling as he watches Jake pant quietly to collect himself after the orgasm.

Jake eventually whines from overstimulation and Ace snaps out of it and pulls out, leaning down to kiss the gorgeous man while fumbling to discard the condom and take his aching cock in his hand. Jake’s hand joins in, thumb spreading the pre over his head while his tongue thrusts into Ace’s mouth, and it doesn’t take long before Ace trembles and spills over their hands and Jake’s stomach.

* * *

They take a quick shower together to wash off most of the sweat and bodily fluids and heaps of lube. Jake looks like he’s about to fall asleep on his feet, so even though the sun has barely started to set Ace suggests going to bed early.

The plan sort of fails when they end up talking until midnight, sharing stories and kisses and smiles between the covers. Jake seems to be back to his usual self after the initial tiredness, and no matter how much Ace enjoyed seeing a more subdued side of him, he much prefers their usual dynamic.

“Can I ask you something?” Ace eventually asks, deciding to push his luck since Jake looks to be in a better mindset already. He’s still kind of curious about his double life, but he doesn’t want to ruin the other’s good mood. “About the business.”

“Shoot,” Jake says, not seeming the least bit offended by his nosiness.

“What would you do with the company?” Ace asks. “If your dad, you know. Bit the bullet?”

“Is that an offer?” Jake asks, quirking an amused eyebrow. “If so, tempting.”

Ace just chuckles. “Sadly, assassination isn’t on my long list of skills.”

“Pity,” Jake jokes, before turning to look up at the ceiling, mulling over the initial question. “I dunno. Stop with all the shady shit, at least. Probably sell it, or do charity. Anything but what he does,” Jake says, smile gradually being replaced with a frown.

“You don’t even want the company? At all?” Ace asks, surprised. He assumed most of Jake’s distaste for the job was because of his father and the type of people he hired, not the establishment as a whole.

“Fuck no,” Jake says without any hesitation. “Maybe if I got it when I was younger, but now? It’s rotten to the core.”

“Then why the hell are you still putting up with it?” Ace asks, and he doesn’t mean for it to sound like an accusation, but he’s getting genuinely confused. Why would Jake sacrifice decades of his sanity, if not for the monetary gain?

“Sunk cost fallacy?” Jake says, shrugging. “I've wasted my whole life waiting for dad—for _things_ to change,” he corrects, but Ace doesn’t miss the slip-up and how it makes Jake’s face flash with hurt. “I'm getting more and more fed up but at the same time, if I bail now, it's gonna mean it was all for nothing."

“It's never too late,” Ace muses, hesitantly placing a comforting hand on Jake’s shoulder. “If you ask me, even just one day of freedom beats decades in a cage.”

“The… urge to run away has been getting unbearable, the last couple of years,” Jake admits, and even though he averts his sad eyes, his hand is grasping Ace’s on his shoulder.

“Hey, I'm somewhat of an expert on disappearing. You ever need advice, I'm your guy,” Ace grins, scooting closer so he’s practically laying on top of Jake and beaming up at him.

“You're a terrible influence,” Jake smirks down at him, but it quickly morphs into a sad smile; one of regret. "I wish I'd met you twenty years ago.”

“Better late than never,” Ace repeats. He doesn’t want to see that expression on Jake’s face, he wants him to smirk and roll his eyes and ugly laugh again. He lays his head just below Jake’s jaw, cuddling into him while Jake seems to mull over his life decisions. Ace doesn’t envy him and the choices he no doubt still has to make.

“What about you?” Jake asks after some minutes of silence, hand carding into Ace’s hair to address him. “You got your freedom, ever get tired of running?”

“I've been running my whole life. By this point, it's second nature,” Ace jokes, but stops to consider the question to humor Jake. “I guess I could've settled down somewhere, got a legitimate job and a mortgage and a wife and golden retriever. It all just seemed like so much responsibility for little to no gain. I think I'm too selfish, used to only looking out for my own interest. Since anyone else sure as hell isn't going to.”

Shit, he said too much. Jake is looking down on him— _at_ him, not on him, Jake wouldn’t do that, Ace corrects in his mind—with an unreadable expression, humming softly in acknowledgement.

“I guess big change scares us all,” Jake finally comments, hand in Ace’s hair resuming its petting.

Ace is about to protest; he's not _scared_ of picket fence life, he's above it! He'd stick like a sore thumb in suburbia, not to mention what would happen when he inevitably fucks up and sleeps with the neighbor's wife or gets drunk and breaks into someone's car. And how would he pay for it all? Who the hell would hire him, with no education or experience?

No, he made his bed a long time ago and now he has to lay in it.

“What would you do?” Ace asks Jake after a small silence, trying to quell his own unpleasant thoughts. “If you ran. What’s the first thing you’d do?”

“Uh. Panic over how I’m gonna be able to feed myself?” Jake says, a nervous smile replacing his pensive expression.

“No no no, that won’t do,” Ace chastises, even wagging his finger for emphasis. “What would you do to celebrate? To spite your dad?”

Jake ponders the question for a while, and it’s not exactly what Ace was going for. He just wanted to try to get the other (and himself) out of the melancholy thoughts.

“It’s petty and immature as fuck,” Jake starts with a small grin, causing Ace to perk up. He’s all over that shit, matching Jake’s grin to encourage him to go on. “But I’d probably anonymously leak a picture online of me sucking your cock.”

Ace barks out a laugh at the confession. What a way to come out.

“Well I do have a rather photogenic dick,” Ace teases.

With the tension cleared from the air, Jake soon falls asleep with a small smile on his face, and Ace is happy to join him shortly after. Even if both of their lives are kind of messed up, at least they can enjoy these fleeting moments.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ace plays housewife for a day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter will have actual plot i swear. just enjoy the calm before the storm <3

On Saturday, Ace makes good on his earlier promise of cooking for Jake. He decides on paella, the kind his mother used to make for special occasions.

The trip to the supermarket is an experience, to say the least. The fact that Ace is grocery shopping is a miracle all on its own, but taking into account it’s a Saturday morning and he’s doing it with someone else in order to cook for them later? The realization throws him for a loop, and it’s not helped by the fact that all the other customers seem to consist of families and elderly couples.

Jake wheels the cart while Ace flits between the aisles, looking for ingredients. The small store isn’t particularly well-stocked, so he settles for frozen seafood, and is surprised when Jake doesn’t comment. On the contrary, Jake curiously looks at Ace flying around the store, obediently following after him.

Only when Ace reaches for a cheap wine on the bottom shelf does Jake speak up.

“Don’t even think about it,” Jake says and Ace turns around, raising an eyebrow. Jake looks at the price tags in disgust. “We’re going to the liquor store.”

Ace tries to point out that half of it is going in the food, but Jake has made up his mind.

At the liquor store, Jake helps him search for a wine. Even though Ace has learned enough of the drink to be able to effortlessly mingle with rich wine snobs, Jake is probably more knowledgeable purely because of his background.

“Oh! These are from Argentina!” Ace spots a small section on the shelf dedicated to the country. There’s a couple of dry whites to choose from, and Ace picks a bottle of sauvignon blanc to examine.

“Argentina?” Jake asks, coming up beside him. Ace realizes Jake doesn’t know much of anything about his past.

“My home country!” Ace explains excitedly, before realizing Jake probably doesn’t give a shit. “Sorry, I got a little sentimental—” he hurries to add, placing the bottle back on the shelf.

Jake places a kiss on the top of his head and ends up buying three of the bottles and Ace isn’t quite sure what to make of that.

* * *

As soon as they get back to the cabin, Ace gets to cooking. Jake doesn’t have a proper pan and Ace burns some of the rice, but the familiar aromas wafting from the skillet are making him weirdly nostalgic.

 _“You should learn to cook! No woman wants a lazy man!”_ his mother had said when she’d dragged a no-good teenaged Ace into the kitchen by his ear.

 _“No, focus!”_ she’d scolded when Ace added too much water, too busy joking around. _“Jokes will get you a woman, but what will keep her is dedication!”_

 _“Good job,”_ his efforts finally earned him a proud smile. _“You can do anything you set your mind to. You’re my lucky star.”_

Would you look at that, the steam from the pan is making his eyes water. Ace clears his throat and opens a window, following up with a swig from the now half-full wine bottle to try to shake the memories from his head.

Jake is looking over from the kitchen table curiously. He’s allowed Jake to help by chopping some of the vegetables, but the man’s hovering eventually became so annoying Ace ordered him to stay put at the table. The silence and Ace’s own melancholy are a little unnerving, so he does a little show, flipping the olive oil bottle in his hand and nearly dropping it on the floor while Jake snorts and shakes his head in amusement.

Eventually, Ace deems the food ready, and to his surprise, it even looks edible. He tuts when Jake moves to get up to set the table, pushing the man back down on his chair. Jake rolls his eyes but lets Ace do as he pleases, a small smile on his lips when Ace places a plate of food and a generous glass of wine before him.

“This is really good,” Jake compliments after a few bites and Ace tries not to preen or blush.

“It turned out surprisingly well,” Ace relents. “Although not nearly as good as my mother’s.”

“Family recipe?” Jake asks, that same curious glint in his eyes.

“You could say that,” Ace admits, taking a bigger gulp of his wine than necessary. The food isn’t Italian at all, he never really bothered learning his mother’s traditional recipes, and then it was already too late—“I like the wine,” Ace says, trying to change the subject and swallow the lump in his throat.

“Me too,” Jake agrees, gaze dropping from Ace’s face to the now generous neckline of his shirt. So he may have popped open a few more buttons than necessary when cooking—the kitchen was hot, okay? “Looks like they only import the good stuff,” Jake adds, voice husky as he smiles against his own wine glass.

Ace grins; this is way more familiar ground.

They spend the rest of the meal making innuendos and with Ace’s foot sneaking increasingly higher up along Jake’s leg under the table.

Ace clears the table and then finds himself pressed against the sink by a hard body and an even harder cock pressing against his ass. His neck is assaulted by a sinful mouth and a warm hand sneaks down to grab his own half-chub. Ace bites his lip and moans, hips stuttering into the touch.

“Take me,” Ace breathes.

“Here?” Jake’s question is mumbled against his neck, his voice gruff from arousal. “I don’t have anything on me.”

And so Ace makes a mad dash upstairs for lube and a condom. Jake is shirtless by the time Ace gets back and positions himself in front of a counter, placing the items to the side. Jake cocks his head in a silent question.

“Don’t go easy on me,” Ace says, giving the other his best bedroom eyes and hoping he’ll understand. Jake’s eyes darken and in a flash of movement he’s behind him and has him bent over, Ace’s head pinned against the countertop and a clothed erection squished against the cleft of his ass. “ _Yes_ ,” Ace nearly sobs, leaning back against Jake. God, he needs a hard fuck. Topping Jake was fantastic, but he hasn’t had Jake’s exquisite cock spearing him open in several weeks and he’s _aching_ for it.

Jake unbuttons Ace’s pants and slides them down just enough to expose his ass, giving the flesh a solid smack that makes Ace jolt and groan into the counter. He hears Jake unbuckling his belt and tries to crane his neck to get an eyeful of the cock springing free, but a hand in his hair forcibly pushes his head back down and he groans because it’s _so fucking hot_ —

“Are you gonna behave?” Jake’s voice is so much darker than he’s ever heard before, he’s also clearly getting off on this—the hand tightens, pulling at his hair, and Ace gasps.

“I asked you a question,” Jake says, raspy voice close to his ear as Jake bends down over him, chest flush against Ace’s back.

A part of Ace wants to push his luck, to see how Jake will punish him if he tries to be a smartass about it. But they need to have a serious talk to see how far the other is willing to go, and that’s not happening when both are delirious from lust. So Ace, a little reluctantly, settles on a breathy “I will”.

“Good boy,” Jake murmurs against his ear and Ace is so far gone he doesn’t even care that the praise turns him on. Jake’s hand leaves to go back to working on his belt, and Ace tries not to tremble too much from anticipation when he hears Jake’s pants fall to the floor.

His breath hitches when lubed up fingers probe at his entrance. He’s not patient enough for proper prep, and Jake seems to have the same idea because he’s pulling away after spreading the liquid in and around his rim with just the tip of a finger. Ace hears the condom packet being ripped open, followed by a—pretty comical, if he’s honest—farting sound of the lube bottle being squeezed. Ace almost giggles at the sound like the immature child he is, but instantly forgets it because Jake’s wet tip is rubbing against his hole teasingly.

“ _Yesss_ ,” Ace moans, pressing back against Jake as much as the position will allow him. He whimpers as the tip spreads his rim wide, before slipping in with an obscene wet sound. Jake starts slowly sliding the rest in, but Ace is impatient.

“Harder,” Ace demands.

“You’re such a brat,” Jake snorts, a stark contrast to the earlier mood. Instead of killing his boner, the comment just makes Ace grin stupidly against the counter.

“Oh, yeah? What’re you going to do about it?” Ace shoots back, turning his head enough to look up at Jake in a challenge.

The grin morphs into a surprised yelp as Jake shoves himself balls deep in one smooth thrust, Ace clenching and unclenching at the intrusion, mouth hanging open as his body tries to adjust. The stretch is so good, Jake is so big, this is exactly what he needed—

“Fucking _hell_ you’re tight,” Jake grunts behind him, grabbing a handful of his ass and squeezing. “It’s like you were made to take cock.”

Oh, _Jesus, fuck_. If Jake is going to start with the dirty talk, Ace won’t last long at all.

“Fuck me, big boy,” Ace demands with the last of his wits. Instead of going to town, Jake leans down to lick at the shell of his ear, confusing Ace.

“Won’t be snarking when I’m done with you,” Jake breathes into his ear and then he’s pulling out and snapping his hips back in _hard_ , impaling Ace on his cock and causing him to slide forward on the counter.

“ _Fuck!_ ” Ace keens, scrambling to grab hold of the side of the counter as Jake starts pounding away, harsh thrusts rocking him against the furniture and making his eyes squeeze shut from the intensity of it.

“That’s right, _take it_ —just like that,” Jake growls, a particularly hard thrust making Ace whine and some drool pool against the counter.

Never faltering from his pace, Jake grabs his hair again, pulling him upright and almost causing his head to smack against the cabinet. Ace places his hands on it for support while Jake yanks his head back further, forcing him to arch his back.

“Jesus, look at you,” Jake’s voice is breathless in his ear but somehow, he’s still coherent enough to talk. “What a fucking pretty sight.”

“Jake, fuck, give it to me— _aaahh_ ,” Ace moans, arching his back even more as he starts tugging on his own cock in time with Jake’s brutal pace. It’s so good, he can’t even remember when he last got such a hard pounding and it’s making him see stars.

“I’m coming—” Ace warns, the familiar cresting pleasure hitting him out of nowhere.

“Fuck baby, go ahead, come on my cock,” Jake groans in his ear, the snap of his hips never wavering as he keeps fucking into him.

Ace comes with a wail, clenching down on the length pistoning into him and no doubt painting some of the kitchen white. He slumps forward, cushioning his head against his arms on the cabinets and tries to catch his breath while Jake keeps rutting into him.

“I’m gonna cum inside you,” Jake grunts after only a few more thrusts, rhythm finally faltering while he chases his orgasm. “Fill your pretty little ass.”

Ace whines and feebly clenches his spent muscles. “Do it, fill me up,” he breathes, and apparently that’s all it takes, Jake shoving deep inside of him one last time before his cock pulses and he empties into the condom.

“Holy fucking shit,” Jake breathes after his cock has stopped spasming, pulling out of Ace’s abused hole and causing him to whimper. “You okay?” Jake asks, comforting hand on the small of his back.

“Just sensitive,” Ace says, throwing a small smile over his shoulder before leaning back, standing up on his shaking legs and starting to pull up his pants while ignoring the ache in his lower back. “That was pretty amazing.”

“I hope it wasn’t too much,” Jake says.

“Are you kidding? I fucking loved it,” Ace grins, turning around and leaning against the counter cockily—ouch! He hisses from the sting in his backside, immediately pushing off of the surface. “Uh. Sitting’s not a good idea.”

Worry flashes on Jake’s face. “There’s some ice—” Jake starts.

“I’ll be _fine!_ ” Ace assures, pulling the worrywart into a smooch to shut him up. “I love that I’m going to be feeling you tomorrow,” he purrs, nipping on Jake’s lower lip. Jake swallows audibly.

“You’re so lucky I’m not in my twenties anymore,” Jake murmurs against his lips. “I’d keep you on my cock for days.”

Ace gets a mental image of a younger Jake, youthful cockiness on his boyish features as he commands a much older Ace to sit on his dick. Damn, Jake in his prime would probably have been the death of him.

“It’s a good thing we’re not young anymore or we might not get anything done,” Ace chuckles and pulls Jake into a soft kiss.

* * *

They spend the rest of the day inside the cabin, sharing another bottle of wine over some old board game Jake digs up.

Ace is a little tipsy by the time they make it upstairs, but it’s nothing compared to Jake, who is a giggly, drunk mess. He would never have expected Jake to be such a lightweight, and it’s another thing to add to his growing mental list of ‘Why Jake Park is an adorable sexy idiot’.

And this time, it’s Jake who drools on Ace’s chest in his sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ace panics for almost an entire chapter straight.

When Ace walks downstairs the next morning, a little queasy from yesterday’s wine and with a slight limp, Jake is apparently doing some tidying up. The other is moving about with a spring in his step, whistling a carefree tune, with no signs of a hangover.

“Someone’s in a good mood!” Ace says, a big grin on his face. He realizes he was kind of dreading the morning, because Jake has always been such a sourpuss the day they have to leave. His own mood improves tenfold upon seeing Jake happy.

“Oh. Morning,” Jake says, stopping in his tracks to look at him. “Yeah, I guess I am. Come here,” Jake grins, beckoning Ace into his inviting arms. And who is Ace to deny him?

“Any particular reason?” Ace presses, nuzzling into his shoulder. At this point, he’s fishing for compliments, but can anyone really blame him? The weekend has been amazing.

Jake tenses under his touch, and Ace has time to curse himself for pushing too far, before Jake simply says a hesitant “Yeah”. Confused, Ace pulls back to look at him.

And then Jake drops a fucking bomb.

“I'm falling in love with you,” Jake says, staring deep into his eyes. Ace's heart rate picks up and his fight-or-flight instincts kick in as his brain starts screaming ‘ABORT MISSION’ on repeat.

“No you're not,” Ace quips, fake smile at the ready even while his thoughts are a scrambled mess and he’s surprised he can form a complete sentence. “You're falling for the idea of me. You don’t even know me.” What the fuck is he even saying? He needs to shut up and run, but his dumb body refuses to move and he’s still holding onto Jake like the other didn’t just put a nail in the coffin on their fun weekend flings.

Instead of being offended by Ace reacting to his confession with denial, Jake just huffs out a small laugh.

“I probably know more than you realize. I knew you’d react this way, for one,” he says, squeezing Ace’s hip fondly before reluctantly pulling away, putting some distance between them.

“No, you don’t get it,” Ace says, eyebrows pinching together. How can he make it clear what a non-committal scoundrel he is without giving away too much? “I’m not the kind of person you think I am,” he settles on.

“I don’t care. Your past is your own,” Jake says, infuriatingly understanding.

“I’ve done… _things_ ,” Ace tries, hopeful his petty crimes will drive the other away. He’s probably done things almost as bad as Jake's old man, at some point in his life. He’s trying to get the other to understand without confessing anything, in case the cabin is bugged. Shit, now he’s getting paranoid because of the fucking confession. Why couldn’t Jake just keep his mouth shut?

“Okay. Have you ever killed someone?" Jake asks, maddeningly calm like he’s discussing the weather and not Ace’s criminal record.

“What? No!” What kind of question is that? Does Ace look like he could even win a fight? No thank you, one time of getting his fucking tooth knocked out with the roots still attached was more than enough, and now his preferred strategy for dealing with trouble is running from it.

“See? Getting to know each other,” Jake grins and Ace just looks at him like he’s grown two heads.

Jake goes on about his morning like usual, still whistling like an idiot, while Ace struggles to figure out what the hell is wrong with this man.

In the car, Ace can’t help but wonder:

“What would you have done if I said yes? If I’d killed someone?”

Again, Jake just shrugs. “Asked if they deserved it.”

What the fuck? Is this the mob side of Jake, or is he just a sociopath? Or is his moral compass, somehow, just as fucked up as Ace’s?

“…You're a weird one,” Ace settles on.

“Thanks,” Jake grins.

That night, Ace lies awake on the hotel bed and stares at the ceiling until the early hours of the morning. He doesn't believe that Jake loves him. How could anyone? What even is love, anyway? He sure as hell doesn't know, so how does Jake seem so sure?

Ace decides that he's going to ignore the problem until it goes away.

* * *

Spoiler alert: it doesn't, as Ace finds out the following weekend.

“—so you should’ve bluffed, especially if there were more players. You didn’t have a queen but… what?” Ace asks, stopping his poker lesson upon seeing Jake staring at him instead of the cards, a soft smile on his face.

“I love you,” Jake says and Ace starts aggressively shuffling the cards so he has something to distract himself with. God-fucking-damnit, why does Jake have to bring this up again? What does he expect from Ace? Maybe he shouldn’t have come.

“Sucks for you,” Ace snaps, dealing the cards with more vigor than necessary and causing some to nearly slide off the table.

Jake rolls his eyes and lifts the dealt cards into his hands. “You could just say like, ‘thank you’”.

“Maybe I would if I believed you,” Ace mutters, taking a look at his own hand. Alright, a three, five, ten—

“I think I know my feelings better than anyone,” Jake says, and _Jesus dude just drop it_ —Ace shakes his head. A ten, and a queen—

“Well, then you just like me because I was here. Accessible,” Ace shoots back. And a king, three clubs and one diamond—

“What?” Jake asks, and he sounds a little offended. Ace sighs, looking up from his cards.

“Your first gay fling? It's okay. Maybe you really do think you love me; poor thing.”

Ace doesn’t particularly mean to sound so patronizing, but what is he supposed to do? It’s not like he can say it back, so he might as well let Jake know how ridiculous he’s being. But this time, Jake takes no offense—in fact, he seems more confused than anything, staring at Ace with his mouth open a little.

“Do you think you're the first guy I've loved?” Jake finally asks. Ace pauses.

“What?” And apparently he said that out loud.

“I've had boyfriends, you know,” Jake muses. Ace is completely blindsided by this information; he always assumed Jake was still closeted, at most having random hook-ups or secret lovers—kind of what Ace is now. “Well, maybe I didn't have time to develop feelings for them all. But I've been in love and had my heart broken. I know what I'm feeling.”

Ace wishes he could say the same; he doesn’t know what half of the jumbled mess of emotions that overwhelm him from time to time are. Jake is just so sure of everything.

“How many do you want?” Ace asks instead, tapping the deck of cards and waiting for Jake to discard some of his hand.

“Two,” Jake says and relief floods over Ace at the change of subject.

* * *

No matter how much Ace tries to avoid the whole L-word issue, his curiosity gets the better of him.

“What was he like?” Ace asks the following day when they’re fishing.

“Who?” Jake cocks his head in confusion.

“The guy who broke your heart,” Ace elaborates.

“Oh. Dwight,” Jake says, turning back to the fishing. _Dwight?_ What kind of name is that? “He was an intern at the office. Kinda geeky, a little hipster. He was in charge of appointments but filled in for my assistant once when she was on sick leave, and…”

“Office romance? Really?” Ace asks, quirking an amused eyebrow. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but a romcom cliché wasn’t at the top of his list.

“Yeah, not the best idea,” Jake snorts. “Didn't take long for my dad to find out.”

“What did the old fart say?" Ace asks in a joking manner, but he’s cautious. The senior Park couldn’t have been happy, but surely he wouldn’t hurt Jake or make Dwight… _disappear_. Right?

“He offered Dwight a moderate sum of money to 'persuade' him to look elsewhere for job opportunities,” Jake, thankfully, replies.

“Figures,” Ace huffs, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. When in doubt, throw money at it; the rich people way to deal with problems.

“And he took it,” Jake adds nonchalantly.

“What!?” Ace doesn’t know why he sounds offended. He doesn’t even know this Dwight person, and he sure as hell has no room to judge.

“I don't blame him,” Jake shrugs. “His mom was sick and he could either take the money and leave or be fired and get nothing.”

“But…” Ace starts, frowning. It's not like he wouldn't have done the same thing, at least before. Why is Jake so understanding? Or is he just being realistic?

They fish in silence as Ace mulls over the new information and laments the fact that he’s neither hipster nor geeky. Is he even Jake’s type? And more importantly, why does he care?

Jake, thankfully, doesn’t bring up the L-word or Dwight or any of his exes the rest of the day. Ace finds himself wanting to pry, but is miraculously able to resist the urge. In the end, Ace is just elated he doesn’t have to think about anyone’s feelings, especially his own.

* * *

They get an unwelcome surprise when they’re making out in the shower that evening and the water suddenly turns ice cold. Ace lets out a blood curdling scream as the harsh coldness hits his warm skin.

“Holy fuck, you scream like a girl,” Jake says, teeth clattering while he towels himself off.

“It was _cold!_ ” Ace argues. “What happened to the water!?”

“Dunno, have to go check outside,” Jake says, starting to pull on his clothes.

“Need any help?” Ace isn’t really the engineering type, but he really wants to get the water fixed.

“Sure.”

They go outside, Jake armed with a flashlight and Ace trying not to let his teeth clatter too loudly. Jake opens a door in the back of the cabin, revealing a compartment resembling a boiler room, with two tanks and some sort of machine.

“Damn. Generator’s busted,” Jake grumbles, peering at the machine.

“I though you had that bio… thing,” Ace recalls Jake telling him earlier.

“Yeah, for electricity and the pump. This is for the water heater,” Jake explains. Ace is about to ask where he keeps his tools, when Jake sticks his bare hand into the mechanism.

“Are you crazy!?” Ace panics. Great, now Jake’s going to get electrocuted and die and Ace has to drive him to a hospital with his shitty driving skills and hope he doesn’t end up killing them both.

“Hold the light,” Jake merely offers, handing him the flashlight and sticking both his hands into the depths of the generator. Ace groans in frustration and obediently points the light for Jake, hoping to lessen the chances of him dying.

A little over a minute passes by, and suddenly the machine springs to life and starts chugging along happily.

“How the fuck?” Ace asks while Jake just wipes his oily hands on his pants with a satisfied smirk.

Ace is still freezing when they get inside, so Jake grabs two blankets from upstairs and makes a fucking haven of warmth and comfort as he grabs Ace into his lap on the couch and wraps the blankets around them while they wait for the water to heat back up.

Ace can’t help but think of what a mystery Jake is. Did he study to be a mechanic? He realizes he doesn’t even know much of anything about Jake’s past, apart from working for his dad and then this… Dwight guy.

But does it really matter? Jake yawns a little before nuzzling against his neck, and it’s such a familiar gesture. Ace’s hand moves on its own, carding through wet, chilly locks and causing Jake to let out a pleased hum.

Does anyone else know that Jake likes having his hair played with? That his favorite birds are crows? That he hates cheap wine but loves cheap beer? That he’s absolutely dogshit at poker? That he texts with proper punctuation? That he swears like a sailor? That his favorite color is forest green? That he says ‘I love you’ way too early?

Ace pauses. ‘Early’? He realizes they’ve only known each other for a month and a half, and by the time Jake first said it… five weeks? Ace has never been in a long-term relationship and he sure as hell has never said those words and meant them, but five weeks _sounds_ early.

Could it be that Ace is just not there yet? But he will be? Does he _want_ to be?

Ace looks down at Jake’s now sleeping face and recalls their first weekend. He remembers reluctantly accepting the fact that he wanted to be with Jake, at least for that moment. It seems like such a given now, but he struggled with it at the time.

Ace is now at the point where he can admit to himself that he wants Jake a week from now, and a month from now. He doesn’t want to sleep with other people, not only because it would probably hurt Jake, but because he just doesn’t _want_ anyone else.

Ace gently wakes Jake and leads him upstairs and into bed. The shower can wait until morning.

He curls up against Jake under the covers and peers at the other’s sleeping face in the darkness. He wants Jake to be happy, even if it means cutting off his family and losing the comfortable lifestyle his money provides. Jake’s money is nice and all and makes their get-togethers a lot easier, but it’s steadily making its way further and further down on the list of reasons why he likes Jake.

Surely, that has to mean something?

* * *

He’s woken up by Jake in the morning.

“I just got a call, gotta leave early,” Jake says apologetically.

“No worries,” Ace says, trying to suppress a yawn and getting up. “How long?”

“An hour. Sorry,” Jake cringes.

“Oh shush,” Ace grins, pulling Jake into a quick kiss. “I think I’ll survive one morning without my beauty sleep.”

They eat a hurried breakfast and are leaving after only forty minutes.

“Shit, almost forgot!” Jake exclaims when they’re already on their way to the car. Before Ace has a chance to ask what’s up, Jake jogs back to the cabin and disappears inside.

When Jake gets back, he hands Ace a keychain with a moose (‘cute’, Ace smirks) and a key attached.

“What’s this?” Ace asks.

“Spare key to the cabin,” Jake says. _What?_ “If you ever need a place to crash or something. Feel free to stop by whenever, even if I’m not here.”

“Uh,” Ace just stares at the moose like an idiot. Look, it’s even got a funny hat—brain, _hello_? Focus on the fact that Jake gave you a key? To his place? To _Ace_ , of all people?

“Though you’d probably need to take an uber up, it’s a crazy long walk,” Jake explains, hoisting their bags into the truck. “Come on, buckle up.”

“I can’t accept this,” Ace tries to argue even while he obediently gets into the car.

“You don’t have to use it,” Jake says. “Just… hold onto it, okay? Makes me feel a lot better.”

Shit. Has Jake figured out that he has trouble finding a place to lay his head most nights?

“If you insist,” Ace settles on, pocketing the key. “Uh, thanks.”

Even if he’s not sure about the whole thing, there’s no denying that the gesture displays an enormous amount of trust. Ace would never place as much trust in anyone as Jake does in him, but he’s not sure if that says more about him or Jake.

They get to the bus station, and Jake leans in for a kiss that Ace is happy to respond to.

“Love you,” Jake murmurs against his lips.

And this time, Ace believes him.

“Why thank you, good sir,” Ace grins against his lips. Jake’s laugh is a huff of air against his wet lips, and Ace leans in for another taste.

“Be safe,” Jake calls out to him when he jumps out of the car.

Ace whips around, a million-dollar smile on his face:

“Always am, sweet cheeks!”

He should have really taken Jake’s advice to heart, and the irony is not lost on him when trouble finds him a few weeks later.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, things have to get a lot worse before they can get better.

Two and a half weeks later, Ace finds himself sitting on the bus and all he feels is pain. The taste of blood lingers in his mouth and his eye has nearly swollen shut. He takes raspy breaths that make pain flare up his side. He aches all over and he can't quite get rid of the dark thoughts invading his mind, trying his best not to throw up from the bus jostling his broken body as it runs over the shitty pavement.

He was careless. He knew he'd stayed in one place for too long, but he didn't want to leave because of Jake.

He'd tried to clean up his act, doing card tricks next to the market square for a couple of days and even making fricking balloon animals in the park another. Sure, he didn't have a permit for street performing, but at least he wasn't scamming anyone or stealing. The money he received was legitimate and way more generous than he thought; who knew little kids' parents tipped so well?

Sucks for the kids who had to see the nice magician man get approached by four big thugs and get dragged into a dark alley.

So Ace owns a couple or ten grand to a drug boss he had the unfortunate luck of meeting half a year or so ago. He’d had to lose that one Russian gang off his tail somehow, and the cartel leader had seemed a little too trusting and had his own beef with the rival group. Ace thought he could slip away from their deal before the dust settled, but apparently he was wrong.

He should have kept moving. It's a little worrying he can't even remember what beef he had with the Russians in the first place. Was that the time he flirted with the leader's wife? Or the time he stole a crate of what he thought were electronics, but ended up being guns? Cheated in a high-stakes poker game? He honestly can't remember, he's on way too many people’s shit list for the most absurd things.

Ace thumbs at the train ticket in his hand. He'd had to print it out in the library, and almost got kicked out when he couldn't pay the $.2 fee. Thankfully the clerk had been sympathetic.

Ace remembers buying the ticket online a week ago. It's one of those fancy 5-trip ones for commuters, and it was expensive, and he'd been so proud he could afford one without using scam money. He was going to surprise Jake the next time he wanted to meet. He just wanted to see if Jake would be proud that he'd started to turn his life around.

Alas, it's been made clear his past will always catch up to him. The thugs beat him, spit on him, kicked him, and took whatever he had on him. They money he'd earned and his fake ID and stolen credit cards (sucks for them, they’re bound to be cut off at this point), along with both of his phones.

He sighs shakily at the thought of losing his real phone. If they crack it, they're going to know about Jake and the cabin. There's bus tickets in his messages. He was so sloppy. Normally he'd keep the phone off his person, hidden in the motel somewhere. He just wanted to have it on hand for when Jake texts or calls. Stupid, stupid, stupid—

Ace swallows the lump in his throat. He tries to tell himself there's no use dwelling on what happened, that he should just clean himself up and put on a smile and move on. That it'll work out, because it always does for him, because he's the luckiest man alive.

It doesn't work; he physically cannot bring himself to smile. It feels like something's broken in him. He's been in way worse situations, hell, they might not even have broken any bones. He can walk, and he probably doesn't even have a concussion. They went easy on him, all things considered; at least they want him alive.

He remembers going back to his motel room to clean himself up. Methodically checking that all his teeth were still attached. Using his meager medical supplies to clean the split lip and tape the gash over his brow closed. He could have grabbed some ice for his eye from the machine in the hallway, but he just packed up his bags and bolted.

He must have gone to the library after that. He can't remember going to the bus station or getting on the vehicle. He'd tuned out and his body, on autopilot, had apparently decided he needed to get to the cabin. He still has the key, having hidden it well in a pile of his clothes. The relief that the thugs didn't take it is immense. He could have fucked up even more.

* * *

Ace arrives in the familiar small town, grabs his bags and starts trekking. All of his belongings fit into a suitcase and a duffel, and it's beyond pathetic. His body is aching and he's going to be walking for hours, probably. He doesn't care, single-minded focus on getting to the only safe place he has left.

…At least before the brutes inevitably find it. He should have a few days. He has Jake's number memorized, he can call him from the landline—does the cabin have a landline? Shit, now he's not sure. He'll walk back into town if he needs to, surely someone would let him use a phone.

What then? He tells Jake he's in deep shit, Jake tells him to fuck off, then he goes… where? How? Hitchhiking with a black eye is a futile effort, he knows that from experience.

He could just let himself be found. The gang said next time he's going to lose a finger, then his dick. He'd rather keep both, so maybe if he cooperates, they'll see that he's not planning to run. He can't even remember how much he owes. He's not sure it even matters to the leader; he just wants to teach Ace a lesson.

He's so tired. It's getting dark and he's barely halfway. He wonders if someone else might have given up a long time ago.

His mother always said there's a fire in their bloodline, something that doesn't give up no matter how bad things get. He thought that was just her way of dealing with being poor as fuck and raising three kids in a rat-infested house with smashed windows and holes in the roof. But maybe he also has some of that same, dumb stubbornness, because as much as he wants to give up and just curl into a ball in the ditch and let fate decide whether he wakes up tomorrow or not, his aching feet keep moving him forward.

* * *

Ace finally gets to the cabin in now near-total darkness, and thinks he's hallucinating for a second upon seeing warm light streaming from its windows.

He'll later wonder why he didn't turn around or at least scope out the place. His rational side should have realized that Jake probably didn't want to be disturbed, or he was there with someone else, or worst case the cartel could have beat Ace to it and been waiting. But his heart leaps into his throat and he takes off in a sprint, injuries forgotten in favor of hope blooming in his chest.

His muddy shoes are pounding on the porch and he sees sudden movement in the living room. Jake's silhouette appears behind the door just as Ace reaches it, and the door opens and nearly smacks him in the face.

“Ace?” Jake's stunned face greets him and Ace drops the suitcase carelessly and flings himself into Jake, crashing into his chest and smushing his bruised nose against the collar of his shirt. All of his feelings return to him tenfold, and he's overwhelmed by the fear and sadness and anger but also by the comfort and safety and feeling of _home_.

“How are you—how did you—?” Jake is confused but sounds happy, wrapping his arms around him without hesitation, and Ace grabs fistfuls of his ugly vest and buries his face against Jake's shoulder and just _breathes_ for what feels like the first time in hours.

“What happened?” Jake is suddenly concerned and Ace realizes he's crying, trembling more than a leaf during one of the mountain storms. Ace tries to say something, but only a pained sob comes out and more tears fall from his eyes. He can't, he just can't speak, he can barely think coherently, he just knows he's in Jake's arms and Jake isn't pushing him away even though he's broken.

“Is that _blood?!_ ” Jake has apparently noticed he's not okay despite the darkness, like the uncharacteristic bawling didn't give it away. He tries to lift Ace's head, but Ace stays put; he doesn't want Jake to see. “Ace, look at me,” Jake commands, stern but gentle, encouraging Ace to lean his head up.

Ace raises his head hesitantly and looks to the side of Jake, at the cabin wall. He can't bear to see the disappointed look on Jake's face. Jake inhales sharply and it stings almost as much as the punches he took to his face. Any second now, he's going to start yelling, telling him what a fucking loser he is—

“Let's get you inside,” Jake says softly instead, prying the duffel strap off Ace's shoulder. Ace, confused, follows the command, toeing off his dirty shoes and hesitantly making his way over to the couch. Jake grabs his suitcase from the porch and sets both bags down next to the fireplace before shutting the door. He hurries to the couch, worried eyes only on Ace.

“What happened?” he asks again, eyes searching his face and flitting between each of his injuries. Ace looks away in shame. He opens his mouth but no words come out. He's just so tired, he's scared and hurt and—

He chokes out an ugly sob and buries his face in his hands. It stings, his swollen eye protesting the contact, but he doesn't want Jake to see his fucked-up face and gross crying.

In an instant, he's pulled against Jake's chest and strong arms wrap around him. Jake doesn't say anything, just holds him tight and lets him cry. Ace’s body, apparently not happy with having been denied tears for the better part of a decade, decides to cry for years worth of pain and frustration and grief.

Ace doesn't know how long he cries. He gets tears and bloodied snot all over his hands and Jake's shirt while Jake just holds him and runs a comforting hand through his hair. He thinks about what a treasure Jake is and that he's never done anything to deserve being treated so well, and the thought makes a fresh batch or tears well up in his eyes.

* * *

After what has to be hours, Ace finally manages a shaky breath without sobbing. He feels empty, like he just let out a lifetime of bottled up emotions and has nothing left to give. He's pretty sure he could sleep for several weeks straight.

“Ready for bed?” Jake asks, voice rough and tucking a stray lock behind Ace's ear.

Oh, right. He forgot they haven't seen each other in weeks and Jake probably wants to get laid. His body is kind of wrecked and he doubts he'll be able to fuck or even blow Jake properly, but he can at least give a handjob. It's the least he can do for showing up unannounced and ruining Jake's night by bawling for hours. He's surprised Jake even wants to, after seeing his banged up, snotty face and pathetic crying.

Ace wipes some of the mess on his face on his sleeve and leans in to plant gentle kisses on the side of Jake's neck, hand slipping down from his chest to rub the other's dick through the cargo pants. Jake is still soft but that's not an issue, he'll just—

“Woah!” Jake exclaims, grabbing Ace's wandering hand. “Are you crazy!?”

Ace blinks, leaning back to look at Jake's scandalized face.

“What you need is sleep, not dick,” Jake says sternly, frowning.

“But we've always…” Ace hesitates upon seeing Jake look offended.

“I'm going to choose to believe you're not thinking clearly or you'd never have even hinted at that,” Jake is trying to hide it, but he sounds hurt, which is the last thing Ace wanted. “Now let's get you some sleep.”

Jake gives him the ugly flannel pajama pants and Ace is too tired to care. While Ace changes and tucks himself into the familiar bed, he hears Jake stoke the now burnt out fire and turn off the lights before coming back to the bedroom with Ace's bags.

Jake undresses down to his boxers and crawls under the covers and Ace resists the urge to cuddle up to him in case he's still mad. Jake, however, has other plans and immediately scoots over and curls up against Ace, spooning him. Ace hisses as Jake's hand settles on his ribs, and Jake flinches and carefully sets the hand on his hip instead.

They lay there together in the dark in silence. Ace is tired but his mind is running a mile a minute, eyes wide open and staring into the darkness of the room.

“I didn't mean it,” Ace says. Jake's head moves against his shoulder, lifting up in question. “I know you’d never… take advantage. My head's just a mess.”

“I know,” Jake says, kissing his shoulder blade. Then he pauses. “I hope you'll tell me what happened tomorrow. But you don't have to.”

Ace thinks about it. He doesn't feel like crying anymore, he feels kind of disconnected from everything, especially his feelings. Maybe that'll make it easier.

“I got beat up by a gang,” Ace says and is surprised he doesn't feel anything. Jake tenses, but doesn't pry. He's waiting for him to continue. “I owe their leader a bunch or money for… something, I can't remember. I thought they gave up trying to find me months ago.”

Jake kisses his neck and holds him tighter, so Ace continues.

“They took all my cash and my phones and a bunch of other crap. I just found myself on the bus after. I didn't know you'd be here, I'm sorry for ruining your vacation—”

“You didn't ruin anything,” Jake assures. “I texted you as soon as I got here. Was wondering why you didn't reply.”

“I'm sorry, I would have asked before coming—”

“Shh. I told you, you're welcome any time,” Jake says, before exhaling shakily against the back of his head. “I'm glad I was here,” he murmurs.

“Me too,” Ace says. He basks in Jake's affection for a while, knowing it might be the last time. Jake might not want anything to do with him after his next confession.

“They could find this place,” Ace says hesitantly. “They got my phone, if they read our texts—”

“I'll take care of it,” Jake interrupts.

"What do you mean?”

“Give me the leader's name, I'll make a few calls, and he won't ever bother you again," Jake mumbles against his neck like it's the most common pillow talk in the world.

“No, I don't want you to get involved!” Ace argues, turning around in Jake's arms to protest. The last thing he needs is Jake to get in trouble for Ace's dumb mistakes.

“This is the only good thing I can do with my status. Let me handle it,” Jake says, still as calm as ever.

“…I thought you didn't like to get involved in that side of the business.”

“I don't. But I'll do it as many times as I have to, to keep you safe.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you.”

“It's really that simple, huh?" Ace can't help the small smile.

“Yeah. Now go to sleep, we'll deal with everything tomorrow.” Jake pecks his cheek.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath goes much smoother than Ace expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning for this chapter for mention of past sexual assault / rape. it's only three lines but be careful if that's something you're not comfortable with!

Ace wakes up to a strong smell of coffee. He's alone in the bed, and blinks around trying to find the source. He sees a thermos cup on the nightstand, the beverage still steaming.

He sits up on the bed and winces. Shit, his body hurts—his ribs sting sharply with the change in position and he feels a bruise forming on his ass where it met the concrete yesterday when he was thrown on the ground.

Ace sips the coffee and it makes everything a little better. There's cream and no sugar, just the way he likes it, and it makes him smile. The cream is a little messy on top, and Ace squints and nearly makes out some sort of figure that could _very_ generously be described as a heart shape. Did Jake try to make him latte art? The realization makes him smile uncontrollably and he winces from the pressure on his eye and lip.

Ace throws on a robe from his duffel and makes his way downstairs, half-finished coffee in hand. He expects Jake to be making breakfast, but finds him sitting by the table on a laptop instead. Jake is wearing glasses, which comes as a surprise to Ace. Reading glasses, perhaps? He looks kind of cute, even when his brow is furrowing in thought at something he reads on the screen.

Jake doesn't even look up when Ace walks down, staring at the screen intently.

“Hey,” Ace greets hesitantly. Jake looks up, frown gone from his face and blinking in surprise.

“Hey, you're up early,” Jake says, removing his glasses and closing the laptop, sliding it further away on the table.

Is it early? Ace looks at the clock and sees it's only eight. They must have been up to like two or three in the morning, but he feels rested nonetheless.

“Huh, would you look at that,” Ace comments, sitting down opposite of Jake and wincing at the ache in his buttock. Goddamnit, he's such an old man, getting bruises just from being thrown around a bit. He's about to make a joke about it to Jake, but sees the other's dark gaze is glued to the chair. There’s a cold fury on Jake’s face like he’s never seen before; he looks ready to kill.

Ace realizes Jake probably thinks he got raped in addition to beat up.

“No no, no no no!” Ace hurries to explain, waving his hands for emphasis. “I just fell on my ass and got a nasty bruise in the fight! I didn't get deflowered, I swear,” he tries to joke. ‘This time,' he adds in his mind and promptly shoves that thought deep down into the pit of repressed memories where it belongs.

Jake's eyes soften in relief and he exhales shakily. Ace has never seen this side of Jake, he didn't realize just how protective the other is. He acts like Ace is worth protecting.

“You practicing your barista skills?” Ace is quick to change the subject, swallowing the lump in his throat in favor of pointing at the shape in his coffee.

“I never claimed to be a great artist,” Jake huffs in amusement before getting up to make breakfast.

Ace forces some food down even though he still feels queasy. He realizes he only ate a bagel for breakfast yesterday and nothing else the entire day. The scrambled eggs and toast are nice, but Ace feels his stomach churn at the sight of bacon. Maybe later.

* * *

It's a cloudy day and looks like it might rain, so they curl up on the couch together. Jake pulls Ace into his lap, and it's a little awkward at first, having to find an angle that doesn’t put any pressure on his injuries, but Ace eventually relaxes into the embrace. Only then does he realize Jake's hand is shaking.

“Jake?” Ace asks.

“I'm just glad you're okay,” Jake mumbles, nuzzling into the uninjured side of his face. Ace feels his heart swell. Jake is perfect. He's never been treated this well. Jake is blunt and manly but so unashamed of showing his emotions when it comes to Ace. He loves Jake so much—

Huh.

“I—” Ace starts but is interrupted by a loud noise outside that sounds like a goddamn tornado is sweeping by. “What the hell _is that?_ ” Ace asks, jumping up on his feet and running to the window, expecting fricking Armageddon to hit.

“Oh. I asked a doctor to come over,” Jake seems to remember. Ace spots the helicopter about to land next to the lake.

“In a fucking _chopper!?_ ” he asks incredulously.

“It was fastest,” Jake simply shrugs.

* * *

Jake introduces Ace to Dr. Carter, a mountain of a man with an unnerving grin and a firm handshake that gives Ace a small static shock and makes him jump. Ace is wary of the man, but Jake assures him he's a professional and has treated Jake numerous times.

Jake leads them to the guest room and leaves him with Dr. Carter, who does a full body check-up. At least Ace gets to keep his underwear, save for when the doc pulls them down to prod at the bruise on his ass, but it's a little awkward nonetheless. Thankfully the doctor makes absolutely zero small talk, only asking about his injuries and whether this or that hurts and to describe the pain.

And then he tells Ace to get dressed and packs his equipment and leaves the room.

“—all things considered, he was lucky. The cuts and scrapes are minor and nothing is infected. One or two ribs are bruised and any strain on the upper body such as lifting or rowing should be avoided. The various bruises are external only and there are no signs of internal bleeding. The swelling in the eye seems to have gone down, but if it swells shut or if he starts experiencing fatigue, call me,” the doctor tells Jake when Ace walks down the stairs. “I have some painkillers, if you'd like.”

“I think he can answer that himself,” Jake says, turning to address Ace.

“Oh, uh, I'm fine!” he chippers.

“If he keeps favoring the uninjured side there might be complications further down the line,” the doctor says, eyeing him critically. Ace thought he walked down the stairs normally, but apparently the doctor has a keen eye.

“Fine, give me the damn pills,” Ace grumbles.

* * *

The doctor and pilot leave and Ace reluctantly takes one of the painkillers.

“Sorry I didn't ask beforehand. I just wanted to make sure you're okay,” Jake says, on his laptop again.

“It's fine. Can't remember when I've been to a doctor last time, it's good to know I'm not dying,” Ace tries to joke.

“You ready to go pick up your things now?” Jake asks. Ace cocks his head. “Seems like you left in a hurry yesterday. We can go to the hotel or wherever to get the rest of your stuff.”

Oh. This is awkward.

“Uh. There's no more stuff. I took everything with me,” Ace explains. His meager possessions fit into two bags, which is kind of sad. It's also mostly clothes, which is even more pathetic; his entire net worth is probably like a hundred bucks.

Jake's eyes are wide in disbelief. Fuck, maybe this is the point where he realizes what a loser Ace is.

“That's… impressive,” Jake says instead.

“It's really not,” Ace scoffs. “It's not like I didn't use to have more... possessions. But some I pawned, sold or had to leave behind when I was caught in a bad spot. Now, it's best to travel light.”

“I didn't realize. Of course it's difficult to be homeless."

“I'm not _homeless_ ,” Ace protests. He travels by choice, not because he has to! He could have had a nice apartment or maybe even a whole house—

—if he didn't royally fuck up the last thirty years of his life. Fuck. He hasn't had an address in over a decade, he's the literal definition of homeless.

“…I prefer free spirit,” Ace weakly jokes.

“You should stay here,” Jake suggests.

“You’re out of your damn mind," Ace smirks, raising his eyebrows.

“I'm serious. Stay here until you get back on your feet. Or—” Jake hesitates.

“Or?”

“For as long as you want to.”

Ace sighs.

“Look, I appreciate everything you've done for me, I really do. But I can take care of myself. I know it sure as hell didn't seem like it last night, but I've been in way worse situations and always managed to stay afloat. You don't need to do charity.”

“I know you can handle yourself. And it's…” Jake falters, before sighing, seemingly giving up on trying to keep it all in, slamming the laptop shut to give Ace his undivided attention. “It's so damn nice that you never ask for anything. All my life people have wanted me for something; money, power, whatever. You don't ask for anything, in fact you actively fucking fight me every step of the way,” he smiles fondly. “Which is why I want to give you the fucking world.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I'm barely worth five minutes of your time and we both know it,” Ace protests, a weak grin on his face.

“You're worth _everything_ to me,” Jake insists. “I've never been this happy in my _life_. You're the best damn thing that's ever happened to me, so just shut up and let me do this for you.”

He knows Jake claims to love him, and cares for him and cooks for him and holds him when he cries. But those words? The knowledge that Ace, a lowly street rat, has actually made a positive impact on Jake, the most amazing man he's ever met? He always considered himself terrible at relationships, but maybe he's done something right with Jake.

“Okay,” Ace says, some of the bravado giving way for a soft smile. “I still think you're crazy, but if you insist.” He smiles and steps closer to where Jake is sitting, running his hands over his shoulders.

“I learned from the best lunatic,” Jake smirks and tilts his head up for a kiss.

Ace tries to deepen the kiss but Jake, unfortunately, is sensible and mindful of his busted lip.

“Later,” Jake promises. “When you've recovered.”

“I'll hold you to that,” Ace grins.

After Jake gives him one last peck before getting back to work, Ace helps himself to the leftover breakfast bacon, the hunger hitting him out of nowhere. He really needs to sort out his eating habits, the doctor poking at his ribs earlier made him realize just how much weight he’s lost.

He’s a little tempted to glance at Jake’s laptop to see what he’s working on, but is able to restrain himself. Maybe it’s one of those ‘If I tell you, I’d have to kill you’ type scenarios. It’s really weird to try to picture Jake as an underworld boss, seeing as he couldn’t even bring himself to shoot animals for food.

He wonders if Jake has ever killed someone. Ace knows the ones calling the shots rarely get their hands dirty, but he imagines Jake’s are far from clean. Has he ordered a hit on someone? Has he sent his underlings to beat up some good-for-nothing just like Ace who owes him a lot of money?

“Whenever you wanna tell me who the shithead is that you owe money to, I’m all ears,” Jake says, like he can read Ace’s mind.

“Castillo,” Ace says. “I don’t know his first name, but they called him—”

“The Piranha,” Jake interrupts.

“Yeah,” Ace says, hesitating. Shit, what if Jake is friends with the guy? “You know him?”

“Not personally,” Jake says, giving a one-shoulder shrug. “Always just thought the nickname was dumb. But you know, big mouth, small brain—probably fits that idiot.”

Jake casually insulting a dangerous crime lord like he’s a funnily named pet kind of throws Ace for a loop and he gives a disbelieving stare.

“I’ll deal with him. Don’t worry,” Jake reassures, getting back to his work.

“Um. Thanks.”

It’s a little weird seeing this side of Jake. He’s almost gotten used to stick-up-his-ass businessman Jake, but now he has to deal with going-to-fuck-someone-up mafia Jake too.

‘It’s kind of hot,’ Ace finds himself thinking and promptly rolls his eyes. His brain, not knowing how to deal with the new information, apparently decided to be horny.

Ace makes his way to the couch to give Jake some space, slumping down on the comfy pillows and sneaking glances at Jake working until his eyelids start drooping.

* * *

He wakes up to a rough voice in his ear.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” Jake murmurs, pulling a thin blanket off of him (how did that get there in the first place?) and nudging him awake.

Ace blinks his eyes open and sees it’s pitch black outside.

“What the—how long did I sleep?” he tries to frown but it ends up as a yawn. Damn, he’s still feeling tired.

“Five hours? Six?” Jake guesses, helping him up on his feet. “I’m glad you got some rest.”

“Mm,” Ace mumbles, head falling against Jake’s shoulder. He’s so warm and comfy...

“Don’t make me carry you,” Jake teases, an arm wrapping loosely around Ace’s waist. “Come on, bed’s waiting.”

“Couch was fine,” Ace slurs against Jake’s shoulder.

Jake practically drags him upstairs and tucks him into bed and Ace is out cold before he even has time to turn off the light.


End file.
